October 9, 2012

Words with Sadness.

I remember being about 23 years old and writing pages and pages of nonsense. I would start by writing words and incoherent sentences. Sometimes without spaces between the words, because they didn't make sense anyway and it added an interesting element to my experience. I would get about 2 or 3 pages in before a theme would begin to form. Words became sentences and sentences became thoughts and thoughts would become ideas and all of a sudden I would have 7 or 8 pages of back to back scribbling and the world would make sense again.

I wrote a lot back then. I don't write as much now, because it's not 1997 and my typing skills have far surpassed my handwriting. I don't know if typing would have the same affect. I don't know if there was something more personal about holding a pen and feeling the paper press beneath the weight of the words. Like hanging up a cell phone after an angry call, it will never replace the satisfaction of slamming a receiver down and storming away in a huff.
But maybe I could give it a try. See if the damage might come out to play in an environment where music isn't blasting, beer isn't flowing, and people aren't coaxing the laughter out instead. I don't wish to ignore my grief. I don't want to make my despondence feel unwelcome. I just don't know how to talk to them very well anymore. I haven't been this kind of sad in a very very long time. Like learning another language, if you don't use it, you lose it. I have lost my ability to talk with my sadness. To suss her out and make her okay again.

Perhaps the tools I used then will work now.
Perhaps not.

But I figure I have to try something.

You can only drink Gin & sing for so long.


Anonymous said...

As long as you're willing to look directly inside yourself(yes, it's sometimes scary), you will find the way to open the lines of communication again. It may not come immediately or even seem like it's happening, but suddenly you'll find yourself discovering the words you need. Just like before, it took a few pages to find the theme. When you finally cross the to another side, you'll look back an realise just how much and how long you were talking. She is always listening to you. She knows.

Anonymous said...

You truly are a writer. I do not envy your situation, but I envy your articulation of your situation. You make words beautiful. I hope warmth finds you soon.