Journal Entry 2/16/10

    “Ah, the dangers of a pen. The potential for beauty, destruction, truth and embarrassment. I manage to bombard myself with all of these things, each time I fill a page. Looking at them later, they are so bright I have to squint, burning with the fire of a thousand suns, scorching me anew with every word.

   Sometimes they caress me, hold a piece of me safe in the eye of  the storm, cradling my hopes as the winds of change wail around me. A tempest of thought, an assault on my heart, a whirlwind of flickering mental scenery, and a vacillation of ‘yes’ and ‘no’.  I couldn’t tell you who is winning.

   I am currently playing Russian Roulett with feeling and emptiness. A frightening little game where I will either win the ultimate pot of gold, or die a horrible screaming death, and bleed all over my notebooks. Whichever it is, I’m thinking I’ll get some really good prose out of it.

       I know you don’t understand, but that’s ok. I have never found anyone who did…”

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2 thoughts on “Journal Entry 2/16/10

  1. annonamous

    I fucking love your voice. And, no shit you’ll get some good prose from your turmoil. Suffering is a writter’s pillow. Grief and horror her sometimes blanket, but that hard bedrock mattress is made of pure love, the stary sky of rare inspiration and Life Force is the fresh air the Godess herself breaths into your nostrils. You will always pull through the horrible screaming deaths and know experiencially your own immortal soul. Keep on writting KelleyRose. What a lovely flower you are!

    Like

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