This is my 100th blog post. That seems like a small triumph but then I think back to all the things I have written over the years. The thousands of pieces that I have put onto paper over my entire lifetime. The words that have streamed from my consciousness into reality. They left me and with them they took a piece of my heart. Sometimes they lightened that dreadful thing and other times they darkened it. I cannot even recall the millions of words (if not trillions) that have been formed within my mind. I can’t recall the pieces that filled me with contentment.
I have written words on paper and poured them into books. I have jotted them onto notes. I have whispered them into the hearts of those that surrounded me at whatever point in time. I have lost them to deaf ears and blind eyes. I have worn them on me like a badge. I used my words to placate the pain. I used them to usher myself toward hope. I used them to speak my anger when I could not use my lips. I wrote them into the night and watched them float away into the abyss.
I cowered behind so many things in my life, but my words would never let me cower. Through them I found strength. I found humility. I found humor. I portrayed love. I had a friendship that would never abandon me to jealousy or betrayal. These words brought life into perspective and guided my perspective into reality. I created a sanctuary within their hieroglyphics. I used them to reach out. I used them to justify. I used them to question and answer. I used them to make amends.
Writing is part of my being. It has been since before I understood. My mind does not search for words it simply is full of them. I type them in succession with my thoughts. I tap and tap with the beat of my heart. There is nothing more calming, quenching, fulfilling, or perfect than being able to convey the absolute feelings that live so deeply within.
This is my 100th blog and I am quite proud of that, but it is but a drop in the bucket of what I have done over my life. Perhaps one day out of the thousands of things I have done, perhaps one single piece will bring meaning and hope to another. Perhaps it will touch them in such a way that nothing before ever has.
I do not want to be a book of fairy tales and wishes. I want to be a book of strength and inspiration. My book is nowhere near done, but I know that my words will be at my side until the very end and if I am lucky perhaps they will follow me past it.