Friday Freewrite

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What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

In an ocean of voices, how does one communicate his own? The sound is lost before it ever leaves his lips, consumed by a torrential outpouring of a million different words all trying to say a million different things.

In an environment such as this, where everyone gets to have their say, how can one make himself be heard?

Sometimes, the effort just to continue speaking seems too great to bear; like a heavy boulder strapped to my back, I cannot endure it.

I just want to lie back in my bed and not get up in the morning, to just lay there in the darkness, blinds drawn, waiting to die.

Sometimes, in the darkness of despair, I think that maybe death won’t be so bad, that at least in non-existence1 I can find the peace I lacked in life.

Death, if there is no life beyond, is a dark stillness, an eternal sleep, a state in which one’s problems never trouble them again.


The fear I have isn’t always that I won’t fulfill whatever my purpose in life was, but that I’ll discover on the brink of death that there was no purpose3, that all of this was just some unhappy accident.

From non-existence to existence, then back to non-existence. Conservation of energy and momentum. Cold hard balance, foisted upon us all in the dark and uncaring void of space and time.


Footnotes

1. I don’t really believe that we cease to exist when we die. But sometimes, when I’m feeling really depressed, I begin to wonder.

2. I believe that all of us are born into this world with a mission, that we all have a purpose. But I often question that belief.

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Friday Freewrite

Image licensed by Shutterstock.

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

The mind is a rough unrefined oar1, full of gold, but in a useless form.

Freewriting is like dynamite. It blows the rigid unusable rock of the mind, blows it into tiny chunks and find sand that can be melted down, refined, worked into polished gold and silver and crystal.

Sometimes, to solve a difficult problem, to break through a writer’s block, to give expression to an inexpressible thought, all you need is a good old fashioned2 explosion and the patience to pick up the pieces.


Magic. Each of us has the power to change the course of the world. We can drive people to success or ruin; we can build or destroy relationships; we can literally change the face of the Earth; we can do all of these things with mere words.

There is power in words3. In words we find the expression of ideas, thoughts, laws, love, hate.

Through words, the will engages the world; through words, the will exerts its influence on the world, shapes and molds it with fine grained4 tools.


Footnotes

1. Should be ore.

2. Should be old-fashioned.

3. I believe this particular freewrite gave birth to the blog, A Real Magic Power That You Possess.

4. Should be fine-grained.

Subscribe to receive a free copy of my short story The Sign.

Friday Freewrite

Image licensed by Shutterstock.

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

How am I like a flame?

Sputtering, I consume what lies before me, knowing not how long I have left before my fuel is exhausted, before my ephemeral existence is extinguished forever, swallowed by the dark.

I burn passionate and bright. I gaze toward Heaven, stretch high into the sky, longing to cut my ties to this wick, this earthly tether that holds me fast to the ground in a jar.1 I burn bright, my eyes lifted toward the heavens, toward flames in the sky a thousand times as bright, durable, passionate, incorruptible (though even the stars one day exhaust the last of their fuel and cease to burn.)

 


Footnotes

1. I was trying to liken the Earth to a candle in a jar, but I don’t think I made the connection very clear.

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