As I show the world what I’m thinking,
I expose myself to danger.
“But they may not like it,”
is the immediate thought,
but if I do, does that really matter?
“Come from the heart,”
is the advice given,
“if it means something to you,
how can people say it sucks?”
Oh, but it can, and at times, it has sucked.
Writing is not a simple thing,
effort and time intermingle to create
a lasting piece of evidence,
that on good days, or melancholy days,
or mediocre days, or medium-rare days,
you will be able to revisit, relive, or scrutinize.
The problem… once it’s out there
everyone can see it, and if read once,
someone will always know what you thought,
what you felt, or what your point of view was,
for whatever subject it was,
that spurred the written piece in the first place.
It’s far too risky to write, it’s easier to just read,
pass judgement, critique, criticize, compare and contrast,
but I’ll keep writing because I find solace in the process.
I don’t love to write for the outcome,
I love to write because it is a journey, unique,
and specifically my own.