if i could do one thing,
if i could do one thing, and not have to worry about pay off, i would write. i would write stories, books, poetry, songs…anything.
because i love writing.
i love writing because writing takes me down memory lane, to the ranch i grew up on, to my horse cartwheel, to the wind whipping by in my hair. i can smell the fresh waffles on the tiny kitchen breakfast table, made with the strawberries that i picked that same morning. i can still hear the music that the country air plays for me, a simple singsong lull, the song is a familiar one. i can’t place my finger on why it sounds so familiar; and then you, with your strong arms, lead me to the dance floor. and i remember the steps, so well.
i remember feeling safe, your hand on the small of my back; leading me the way that i need to be led. leading me down that rickety route to the chinese souk back home. where the women yell random phrases to persuade me to buy the peking duck or the knock-off designer brand purses or the fruit of the season.
when i write, i can be back home - to that street with every streetlight constantly and not-so-mysteriously broken every night. where the fresh tacos can be smelled three blocks away. where the thumping inside of your heart is because of the menacing truth of my gang-ridden neighborhood, but the fluttering of your heart is because of love all around amongst the neighborhood. that flutter is how you’ve begun to make me feel again.
i love writing because it gives me hope - it can take me away to new places where my heart and my mind and my body are always in agreement. where i do not need to fight myself. sometimes, it takes me to a city in the year 2071, where public transportation is all that anyone ever knows, where the earth is saved from human destruction, where the skies are deeper than your striking eyes.
writing songs, though. brings out rhythm. they’re a little trickier because they are soulful, from the heart, and refreshingly exposing. songs cleanse my spirit, they let me worship my God. they let me sing away my troubles and my doubts. they let my voice carry my hopes and my ambitions. they let me underscore my secrets and my emotions.
so maybe, i write to escape. i write to walk away, but it seems that i cannot. when i write, i’m inspired. and lately, i think you’re the inspiration.
