A Healing Journey

Words have always been an escape, but I never focus or take the time when I need to, and when I do, my mind often draws a blank. Maybe that’s writer’s block, but what writer can’t can’t spell and lacks in punctuation skills? My plot’s the same, or my mind’s a blank, but what’s an escape when everything yet nothing is on your brain and rarely gets on the page

Sculpture was a friend I once knew, but in a short, we bonded at summer camp, kind of way. I remember that it didn’t matter what you made, whether it was out of recycled trash or paper mache; nothing could be whatever you imagined it to be. Sometimes I miss that friend.

Charcoal art. I miss that. I think it’s the concept that it’s a mess; it’s dark, but it’s also so bright, lovely, and full of form, art, and life. It’s essentially messy, darkness into something far greater. The way the darkness brings out the light and the light shades in just the perfect places.

If you find yourself in a place you never should’ve been, it’s okay to retrace your steps and go back. No one can keep you in the wrong place but yourself.