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Exposed.
I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes, I’m building castles high….
I’m forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air, they fly so high, nearly reach the sky, then like my dreams, they fade and die.
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Those of us who don’t know how to properly express ourselves through fluid speech, write.
If you don’t agree, speak for yourself.
I’ve always had some difficulty with speaking intelligently on certain things. All my important thoughts are so scattered that I usually can’t communicate them to people without out the person tilting their head and giving me a good, “huh?” Then they laugh, “Oh Christine, what are you talking about.” That last remark never follows with a question mark, because they are not asking. They probably figure whatever I’m really talking about would not make sense even if I tried to explain. (I would have to agree with them). When I write things down, it’s different. All that I’m thinking pours out onto the page so nicely, so smoothly. (Then there’s also that fact that I can pause, backspace, reword, edit, delete, and such.) As I have quoted to so many people before, and I will quote this anonymous quote again, “I write, to know what I think.” That is what my writing is, gathering all my cluttered thoughts that I certainly cannot speak and emptying them onto a blank white page, to read them back to myself: which helps me find and understand Christine. You too?
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I’d always just liked the moon because it gave me that small-yet-big feeling, like nothing mattered, yet everything mattered.The Dream Weaver by Jack Bowen
