Leave me on a desserted island with nothing but a pen and a piece of paper; with those, I shall create myself another world.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Words, come back.

Every time I had a doubt, a fear or a pain in my chest, I would put pen to paper and write. I would unleash my deepest emotions into a series of words. They may be abstract and they may be clear. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered that when I let my pen down, my mind was at ease. I could breathe a little easier. A lot easier. Words were my salvation. But what do I do when they don't come to my rescue? When I try and I try but the tools with which I once comforted myself had malfunctioned? Where do I go from there? How do I breathe easy now?

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