i have been consumed by a fear of my own words and their permanence. it is a complex that dates back to my early teen years, when the angsty entries in an innocent black journal landed me in counseling upon their discovery by my overbearing mother. i stopped writing for a long, long time after that. the painful echoes of that experience have haunted my handwriting ever since. the pen is mightier than the sword, so the saying goes. the quill can wound in ways that leave a blade incapable, and is a weapon of equal danger to its wielder. long have i remained silent with that phobia.
more recently i have found myself coming around to a different way of thinking. many of life's defining moments rise out of its greatest trials. we both hate and fear our own mistakes, yet these very inadequacies and the lessons we take away from them are what define who we are. my only real regrets are results of inaction, not of errors committed. everyone makes their own mistakes, and often the greatest one is letting someone else tell you what your mistakes are. so i will make my own mistakes, i will make my own life, and i will write about them.
more recently i have found myself coming around to a different way of thinking. many of life's defining moments rise out of its greatest trials. we both hate and fear our own mistakes, yet these very inadequacies and the lessons we take away from them are what define who we are. my only real regrets are results of inaction, not of errors committed. everyone makes their own mistakes, and often the greatest one is letting someone else tell you what your mistakes are. so i will make my own mistakes, i will make my own life, and i will write about them.