Thoughts You Will Never Read

The Urge of Writing

Dear You,

The amount of words I write that start with a purpose yet never leave my head tends to make me pause in awe. The energy I have spent organizing the words until they fit what I am trying to say is wasted, as the words never leave my mind. If they do, they are hastily scribbled onto a paper so fast I can only explain it as my body trying to keep up with the words. I feel that if I am a second too slow, they will run away and I will never find them again.

Yet at the same time, I cannot help but feel that I am purging something from my body. It can be painful, making my heartbeat unnaturally and my temperature rise. Oft times, I feel I am not only writing and thinking, but I am trying to read the words I have vomited onto the paper in front of me - for I haven't the faintest clue what I am writing until it is there in front of me.

When the act is over, I stare at the mound of words like it is a Mount Everest I simply cannot climb. But I try anyway. I read each word carefully, paying close attention to how the words are meant to flow and which ones need to be accented. However, I am left with only questions. Where did this come from? Who wrote this? Me, why would I write this? What part of me felt so trapped or so prominent that it could only find release through my hand and fingers and into the ink of the pen I was holding at that moment.

Although the pen is not always there. On occasion, I have found myself organizing words in my head at a rather late hour. Obsessing over the order, the meaning - the sound. It starts off as a piece of writing and slowly becomes a piece of music. The tempo quickens, a large crescendo - and I must simply have a pen and paper ready that instant, or the staccato note about to happen will be the snap of my mind.

So I scurry to the edge of my bed, grasping for the pen and small notebook that are hidden in the dark. I find whatever light is available, whether it means straining my eyes while the moon barely lights a word, or having the convenience of a flashlight. Once the words have left my head, my tiredness resumes. I ignore questions and readings, set the burden down, and let the echoes of the words continue as I try to sleep for the night.

And it is for writings like these that I have made this book. Though I am not sure you can call a collection of words that may never be read such. If someone happens upon this and is curious enough to read, this will be a journey. Full of what? I have no idea, but I welcome you as a companion - a traveler.