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VOF Week Two: (You can't escape your own words)

Scribbles, notes, emails, writings, stories, poems, diaries, thoughts, reflections, whatever you wanna call them, I did them. I wrote on papers, boards, notebooks, journals, the Internet, whatever you wanna call it, I did it.

And then one day, I threw it all away.

I threw my notes away because I did not want the day to come when when people might take my words seriously. They might get the false assumption that my words mattered, or that they signified who I truly was. They might get shocked by my personal thoughts, my bitter moments, my anger, my grief... They might get the impression that I was someone else entirely in my writings. They might conclude things based on my words. I thought, and the more I thought, the more papers I tore.

I couldn't just have it all available and out there; all those words wandering around; owning me with their power. All those memories I'd rather forget. A secret crush. A silly moment. A shallow way of thinking. An embarrassing action. I tore those papers down.

I tore and tore, as there was some kind of truth out there. There was easy proof that I had not always been as smart as I'd like to think I am. There was proof that I had not always been ''together''; that I broke down at moments and had weak breakouts at others. There was proof that my instincts had often gone wrong; people had often been cruel; friends had been deceitful. All this information that I chose to selectively forget and get out of my memory was out there: embarrassing, sad, lonely, crushing moments that are more like one big joke now. Sure, they're a joke, I tell myself, nothing serious. We did not know better, we were younger, all those memories do not matter, they're just silly. They're so silly they had to be thrown away in fear someone might take them seriously.

So I threw the words away; some were torn, others thrown; I tried to erase some words; burn others down. However, no matter how I tried, the words did not cease to exist. Those embarrassing moments were still there. They wouldn't go away. All those moments that I'd rather do without were still documented in my brain. They're still around. Even if not visible, they make up one big silence, the shreds of which make up who I am and how I ended up this way.

Since then, I have not really seen my visible notes anymore, until I came across pulsewire. I see my words through this journal entry now; floating amidst the thousands of words out there. And my words? They are not scared anymore. They are no longer in hiding. They are soaring up high and they are free; as they are no longer scared to reach out. There is no longer fear of the words owning me, for they are shared now, and they belong to us all.

Comments

katea's picture

I can relate!

Several times I gave up on writing; and look where I am now, on PulseWire writing again. Hehe. Truly, there is no escaping.

Keep writing, I will keep reading.

katea

Poverty is man-made that we can undo.

Maria de Chirikof's picture

can relate too!

I love writing poetry but when I am feeling sad and write it is way too personal to ever share with anyone else and if I am happy it is too flowery and corny to share. I had several poems I kept rewriting in any new journal I started so I would always have them since I, too, threw away my old ones so no one could see my private thoughts. When I got married I tore these out of my last journal I kept and hid them. I think I find them every once in awhile and always think I threw them away but find them again later on. I am sad that when we lost a lot of our stuff that I lost these. A part of me is missing that I can not get back.

It was for my daughters and wanting them to get journals to keep their private thoughts in, that I bought one too for myself. I write in it only now and then since I seem too busy doing other things and working on things. I usually end up using them to store thoughts for a computer game (2 different ones) I am designing.

I love that thought of our words not owning us. I think it is why a lot of us fear writing on here since it is a sort of world stage. But here it is not private and secret so no one can try to use it against us since everyone else already sees and knows it.

Thanks for such a interesting idea since I think it speaks to lots of woman!

Maria

LauraB's picture

I am reading

Arda,

And now your words are here for us. I think you have a talent and a strong voice with words...don't you? I am thinking that your written words are a significant aspect of your life journey. I love your words. When I read your words, my body responds and my eyes get moist- that says something when your words spring from the screen into my person.

I'm so glad I'm here with your words.

Listening,

Laura

gillian's picture

You have a talent with words.

That can be scary, because developing a talent can be an awkward and rocky process. But I'm heartened that you're not letting your talent go to waste based on fear. We're all afraid, and awkward at times, and inspired at other times. Your words are healing and true.

Jennifer Ruwart's picture

So rythmic...

Your words have such a rhythm to them. I found myself swaying and nodding a lot. I am heartened that you are releasing your words, so the rest of us can bask in what is uniquely and divinely you. That we can cry with you, laugh with you, and celebrate with you.

I think the test of a story is if your reader wants more. And, I do! How did you find PulseWire? Was there is a defining event that made you toss your words?

Eager for more!

In partnership,
Jennifer

Jennifer Ruwart
Chief Collaborator
JR Collaborations

Arda's picture

Pulsewire...

I had been at a bad place a few days before I found pulsewire, as I was feeling alone in my own mind. I was trying to describe something to some people who would not understand where I was coming from, until I found myself writing a long article about it (posted in my journal). The article was about the region that I'm coming from, which has turned us to become paranoid and passive. When a friend of mine read the article, all she said was "You have got to write for pulsewire!'' When I skimmed through pulsewire that same day, I was filled with so much emotion because I suddenly felt at home. I've always felt a little ''homesick for somewhere else'' but did not really know where that place was. The more I read in pulsewire, the more I think that I may have found that place!

Karthika's picture

I feel good and bad!

Hi Arda,

I was just reading all your articles.
After reading this one I felt bad coz I wont be able to read those words you must have written before so beautifully but later I made myself feel good thinking you are not going to throw them away anymore :)

Keep writing
Karthika

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