I've come to this white box a few times in the past week, wanting to write something, but the something just did not want to be written. Do you ever worry that your something thoughts have dried up? I worry that. I worry that one day I'll just have nothing else to say about anything--which is comical if you know me. I have something to say about everything. I have opinions about melon and pronunciation and haircuts and old guys in suits.
Often, I wish I was one of those elegant-quiet-strong people. That I could just sit there with my legs crossed and not shout all of the things that I think and feel, but people would not call me a mouse and they would know all of me because I would be what I am. I wouldn't have to tell them who I am so emphatically in conversation and here on this blog, because I would softly be her. I would balance my private nature that I love so much and my loudness that will just not stop. I would be a little more precise with the words that flush out of my mouth, not so prone to dramatic adjectives and high shrieks of laughter that make some people cover their ears. That's the worst--when they cover their ears.
And so I work on being subdued and fine.
But, I may just be a shouter. Partly, I'm immature and still trying to tell myself what I am. But, the loud insides and outsides could be permanent. What if they are permanent?!
Well, then, there are so many people who will eagerly hush me, who will eagerly hush any of us.
But how foolish to be one of your own hushing people.