My Writings & Stories
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My Favorite Writings & Stories
The Story Behind: So I Write
So I write. Black words on white paper. Everything is black and white... A pen, a typewriter, a computer. I use these to express myself, to reveal my anguish, memories, and fears. Intangible, abstract, often obscure phrases fill page after page of black on white, the words as two dimensional as the paper they are scrawled across. No cry for help, scream of anger, or sound is heard. I have no voice to read the words aloud; it was taken from me by the people who said they dearly loved me. I make no utterances of outrage, no pleas for any ones mercy. Unable to protest, I just continue to write. Unable to express my pain, I write. In desperation, I write.
All my feelings, emotions, held so tightly bottled up inside that I can not breathe. The tears in my eyes go hidden for I fear they will be seen. My thoughts, memories, and startling flashes, all battling for my attention deep inside my mind. Random, unwanted, they do the dance of pain set the discordant music, the screeching sounds of a million wounds wailing in the wind. Unable to really tell you how I am feeling, I just write. Unable to stop the depression and pain, I write
Messages, like silent voices, screaming to the farthest reaches of my brain. Messages that repeat, over and over, like a broken victrola that no one else hears. Messages, fragments of thoughts, pieces of memories, floating like shards of a mirror in space. Sharp-edged pieces of information, cutting like razors into my emotional fabric. I can't avoid them, they are everywhere, in
everything, but to touch them is to feel the pain, and the loss of part of myself.
Words, Frustration, fear, isolation, anger, pain, sorrow, shame. Familiar words, friends, known all too well. Words. Healing, joy, love, encouragement, happiness, support, belief. Strangers, passing acquaintances from someone else's life. Words. A constant struggle, the overwhelming need to be heard, the fear that no one is there to hear, or care.
I write because I can't say the words. I write because I have to. I write because I know if I don't, I'll soon die. So I continue to write
Copyright ©2001 Dean Allen Choate
Here you'll create or edit a custom page for your Web site.
Here you'll create or edit a custom page for your Web site.
Here you'll create or edit a custom page for your Web site.
This is one of my favorite images
This is one of my favorite images
