sometimes, I forget why I write.
I get distracted. Frustrated. Lost somewhere in the sea of view count and subscriber number and twitter follows and goodness knows, that’s not so much a sea as a soul-sucking swamp that’ll trap your feet and pull you down slowly.
And I forget what it’s really about.
because it’s about you. and me. and hearts laid bare.
and I prefer to share our stories over coffee & cookies, but well, you’re not close enough for me to hold your hand and hug you tight and know how you take your tea.
because it’s about hearts and stories. it’s about dreams and heartbreaks. it’s about trying and falling and trying again and trying yet again. it’s about walking forward when everything in you wants to stay in bed.
it’s about words and the way they look on the page & roll off the tongue. it’s about phrases woven together and knitted into a sentence so cozy you want to slip it on like a sweater. it’s about how something so simple as a combination of keystrokes can cause my soul to sing.
because that’s where it began. it began with a girl, and her heart, and some words. it began with a love affair. an obsession with the way the words can dance along the page, can plumb the depths of the soul, can make you smile, make you laugh, make you cry.
it’s about where I’ve been & what I’ve learned. where I am. where I’m going, though Lord knows that part’s entirely unwritten, and blank pages are full of beauty and possibility and just a little hint of terror hiding on the smooth white surface.
but I’m going there anyway. and I promise you that I’ll leave a trail of words behind, marking my steps. I’ll leave pieces of my heart to puddle in the footprints in my wake.
because it’s about hearts and stories, and both are meant to be shared.