Bookmark #145

“Are you going to write full-time now?” They ask me every now and then, and I don’t know what to say.

I wonder if they want to know whether I’ll make money off these words. If it’s that then, to their disappointment and to my misfortune, these words aren’t worth being printed on a page, or maybe they want me to put more words out and more often.

However, I don’t keep anything to myself. It is pointless to keep something to yourself. What good will come of that? Of course, once these words are out, they’re not mine anyway. They belong to everyone, as they should. They belong to them all, as they should.

Tell me, though. What good is life if not shared word-for-word?

Isn’t a moment wasted if it’s not turned into a metaphor? Aren’t heartbreaks pointless if they don’t help another heart heal? Isn’t laughter unnecessary if the joke is never told? Even a breath is futile if it fails to take another’s away.

With that in mind, I write. I may not always put it down, but trust me, I write.

I write when I’m doing the dishes, hating every bit of it. I write when I’m taking a walk, looking around frantically. I write when I’m making coffee, watching the water bubble over. I write when I work on a problem, pulling my hair out of frustration.

Every breath I take is noted down. Every thought I have is neatly filed in a cabinet. I curate my emotions and put them out for display.

I write when I miss my mother, and my father, and my brother. I write when I’m on the phone with a friend, longing to see their face. I write when my heart is broken every year or so. I write when I’m drunk, losing myself in crowds only to feel less alone.

I write when I’m on the floor sometimes, as the moon shines brighter than the sun does on some nights. I write when I’m so peachy, you can see me hop around in happiness.

You see, I’ve spent my life making sure there’s always a story or two to tell, making sure there is always something to put down, hoping it helps just one person feel something, feel at home.

I don’t know what to say to them when they throw the question at me every now and then.

You see, I’ve been writing full-time for a long time now; it is life that I’ve lived part-time.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here