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Untitled

August 23, 2016

I haven’t even started to write and yet the post editor insists on a title.

How would I even know that?

How would I summarize or describe something that doesn’t yet exist?

It would be different if I came with intent, and I suppose it’s not unreasonable to think I might.

You probably would.

But I just showed up.  I didn’t know what else to do.

I once knew someone who believed in intention, but when intention dried up and blew away, she went to live in a box.

I didn’t know I should be sad to see her go.

When she left I turned on the television…the CD player…the radio…anything to fill the silence she left behind.

But silence infected with noise often begins to take on a life of its own, and on the day I couldn’t get into my kitchen because the noise was taking up too much space, I turned them all off and slumped to the floor.

It was there I discovered that my thoughts were louder than the TV had ever been, and the volume control knob on them was broken.

They lived in technicolor and surround sound; they were relentless and merciless.

I eventually broke a window to let some of them out so my head wouldn’t explode.

Sometimes it exploded a little anyway.

You probably noticed.

I wonder if Ms. Intentionality knew this could happen, and if she would find it worth checking out of that box to explore the option.

Sometimes it’s better to break a lease than to be driven insane by four tight walls and a ceiling that’s too low and an impossible standard.

Then again, it would probably frighten her to realize I’m no longer afraid to harness the crazy and see where it runs.

 

 

 

2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 24, 2016 1:59 am

    This was great! You are such a great writer!☺

    • August 24, 2016 2:00 am

      Thank you…you are such an encouragement!

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