Today I let myself write. I sat down and let myself put words down on a page. I let go and let the words flow, without inhibitions. I let go. And before I knew it, my hands were writing things I don’t remember thinking. Honest feelings hit the page and burned themselves into it with truth and permanence. Then, I looked up and there they were. I had to go back and look at them. I am almost amazed. The words are there, almost without my permission. 

What is this? How does this happen? Where have they come from? 

My inner me. The innermost me that usually says nothing. The me that sits quietly in the corner and just takes it. The me that just deals with what is thrown, never complaining, never whining, never questioning. Just dealing. I think it is her who spoke just now. Those are her words on the page, not mine. My mind wandered and she spoke up. 

The things she just told me are almost scary. The words she used and descriptions she gave…they are scary. But they are truth. She knows all. She has seen the things I have told my eyes to ignore and heard the things I told my ears not to listen to. She has held on to the feelings and ideas I long threw away. 

What is this? What should I do with this? 

I have to heed her words. I have to. They have been brought to the forefront of my mind, etched in permanent ink on the page. I cannot ignore what is in front of my eyes. She has made them known to me, so I must take them into account. Because she and I are the same. She is me and I am her. Her thoughts are my own. I can no longer compartmentalize her thoughts as separate from mine. Because I am her. Those are my thoughts, the ones that have been hidden away for some time. Now they are out. Right there. On that page. 

Today I let myself write and now I know myself all the more.

K.J. 4/2/2017