We all have deep, dark and well-hidden secrets.
Secrets that we don’t want others to know
about for fear of their reaction or what they may think of us. But we also want to out our
secrets, to show to everybody that there is more to us that that outward expression of who
we are (or want you to think we are).
For all of my life, I have repressed the real person that hides inside of me. I have accepted,
and even embraced, the façade that society and those around me expect of me. The real
Philip, lays buried deep inside, wanting, but unable to reveal himself.
Perhaps that is why I find speaking a challenge. Finding the right words that accurately and
faithfully express who I am, has always been difficult. The words are there, but when
channeled through my voice they become distorted and changed beyond recognition.
But when I let my brain and soul unite with my fingers and the keyboard, then, and only then
do my thoughts flow naturally. I am finally able to express the true me. I think this is partly
due to the fact that written words, unlike those spoken, can be erased, changed and even
forgotten. When writing, I have time to think and consider because I am the sole audience
for my thoughts. I don’t have to worry about what others may think because… there are no
others.
Writing allows the true Phil to emerge – but only partially because what I write is seen only
by me! It is a partial catharsis allowing me to release the pent-up tensions and feelings that
boil and rage inside.
My voice is unique. My thoughts and feelings are unique. They make me who I am. Others
have similar thoughts, they are theirs, not mine. For all my faults and failings – I am unique!
I sit here waiting. Waiting for a word, a sentence or an idea to leap out and hit me in the
face. Waiting for the way forward to reveal itself so that I can continue on the journey I
began months ago.
When I began my journey, everything seemed so clear, I had an idea, an inspiration. I knew
what I wanted to write and the people who I wanted to write for. The first few weeks
flowed effortlessly one day into the next. My fingers flew over the keyboard, striking each
key with a barely restrained passion because I knew where I was going, I knew my goal.
And then it hit me! Not a brick wall, but a wall of re-enforced concrete that blocked my way
forward and stopped my journey in its tracks.
For over a week, I have contemplated the wall, trying to find a way over, under or through it.
But it is bigger than me! I sit and stare at the screen, thoughts racing around my brain like a
dog chasing its own tail. Spinning quickly but getting nowhere.
“Write something, anything” I say to myself. But the delete key has never seen so much use.
I try to devoid my brain of thought, hoping that inspiration will magically appear – but it
doesn’t. I read books by writers I love, looking for a spark that will ignite me once again –
but my brain remains empty. I listen to music at full volume, watch endless programs on the
TV, browse one meaningless internet site after another – but nothing.
I will get through the wall. I just don’t know when or how. The important thing is to not give
up! To continue to fight the emptiness that makes the wall so difficult to surmount!
It is there, somewhere. I just have to continue searching until I find it, or it finds me.