Thanks for visiting!

Copyright © 2015 on content owned by author Timi O

Sunday, 23 November 2014

Delete the what?

Delete. Type. Delete, delete, delete. Start again. I have something very important to tell you, yet it doesn’t want to become a form of words. It burns my soul with its white fire and tightens my throat when I’m attempting to say it out loud. A heavy exhale. Yes that helps temporarily, let me do it again. Dizziness kicks in; well at least my physical symptoms are now in line with my emotional ones. Start typing again. My fingertips are hitting the keyboard at such a rapid speed that my skin is burning up. Sloooow down, this is not making sense. Delete, delete.
New paragraph. Organise the tornado of thoughts. I need to understand where to start and why do I want to start. Do I want to start? Stop confusing yourself even more, no questions. Just type. Two more sentences are formed, let me read them back. Doesn’t this sound miserable? Was that another question?! Hush now consciousness, this truth inside my soul needs to be born. It needs to be shared with you but firstly I need to admit it to myself and stop running away from it. This is not a rabies ridden dog trying to bite my arm off but this is…delete, delete.
The realisation hits so hard on my chest that I struggle to breathe for a few seconds. I do not know what it is that I must tell myself. It all remains the playhouse of Confusion.

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Power of the written words

Words. Letters. Some strange lines scribbled on paper. Or they are flickering back from the screen of your electrical device. Thought processes materialised into the physical world. Touch it - you can't feel it.

Why would you feel the written words? You see them, yes. But how can you create something that when you touch you don't feel it? Although when you read them back, the whirlpool of emotions will start stirring. Can we really put our feelings into the forms of letters and dots and question marks? When you read my letter-chain, does the same feeling kick you in the stomach as the one I had to fight off? I don't think so.
I feel. I think. I write.
You read. You think. You smile.