From time to time, Paulo Coelho’s words come to mind: “Tears are words that need to be written.” Each time, it occurs to me a slight deviation aligns better with my perspective: Tears are words that must be written. Coelho’s words were written, I believe, in the context of what he asserts was a religious experience. My point of view is different; mine arises from the perspective that writing is an outlet for emotions, an escape valve that prevents the mind from being scalded.
But, too often, tears are not written. They are left either to wither into dust or to fester and consume the mind the way flesh-eating bacteria devours a body.
[I am consuming old, unpublished pieces I find in my dust-bin; when they are gone, I will have motivation to write again. Lately, I am able, but unwilling, to write. My willingness to reveal that bastard just under my skin is challenged; I don’t know whether he’s able to express things underneath. Those dreams and desires aren’t the sort of matters one talks about in polite company. ]
