by Alana Lenore
Simple musings over the craft of writing.
| Writing is the only thing that encourages me to live. And I don't mean allowing my heart to beat and lungs to breathe, that is simply existing. What I mean is, writing is the only thing that gets me yearning to truly indulge in all the flavors of life, and to put it all on paper to taste those flavors as many times I please. I've been beaten down so much, I fear living. I fear not only the bad times, but the good times. In fact, I think I may fear the good things more than the bad. I am easily overstimulated by my own emotions; Happiness, enjoyment, and things alike, always come with an undertone of bitterness.
Maybe I'm just not good at endings, maybe I fear the time I am in a different place and look back at my former happiness with an aching, yearning heart. I find I run away from living, although once fearless.
I run away from writing, although once inspired. I'm never running from one or the other. If I am not living, I am not writing and if I am not writing, I am not living. A realization I would not be able to reach if it weren't for the lyrics, poems, and stories of great artists and myself. I owe any sense of foundation I've ever been able to hold onto, to the written word. I owe everything to the written word. To live is to write, to write is to live. That has to count for something.