Sometimes I want to write when I really have nothing to say. Sometimes. Just to feel the pencil against paper. To feel as if something is pouring out of me. But I have nothing to say.
Sometimes I want to jog, but I hate running. To feel that cleansing of inhaling and exhaling fresh air while feeling that air brushing past my body as my feet pound rhythmically against pavement. But I hate running.
Sometimes I want to sing when my cords are exhausted and sore. I hear a melody in my head that moves me or long to imitate the talents coming thru my stereo, but my throat is scratchy and sore, and simple words take effort, and the music just won’t or can’t or shouldn’t, at the time, come.
Sometimes I want to say “I love you”, but I’m afraid. Afraid. Continue reading
onelifespoken 