Cocoon Of Comfort

Do you know what it takes for me to write?  A cocoon of comfort.  While I was taking care of my mother story ideas, writings, sentences would come to my mind, and I would scribble them down to capture the moment.  However, none of the writing was very good.  My head was a mess – overworked, tired, exhausted beyond words I could ever describe – so my writing was not coherent enough, nor was it an enjoyable read.

It wasn’t until I placed her in a nursing home, trying to get my life back to the focus of me first was I able to sit down and write at all.  Let alone, write anything good and worthwhile to read.

Worse still, I need a view.  It draws my mind to a place free of inhibition.  Having to block out every piece of glass, every window pane just to keep out the monotonous parade of vehicles and persons is more than a set back.

Writing consumes me in a way nothing else does.

I was getting good.  Back in 2012, 2013, 2014.  My writing was getting good.  I was beyond my job, my employment, the people I knew, everything around me.

I was real.  I was honest.  I was vulnerable in my writing.  My writings which I no longer have since everything around me is all out of my control.  I laid myself bare.  I flayed my very soul with no expectation for the mere purpose of revealing who I am.

It is more than a shame to have it taken from me.  It is a part of who I am.

A person cannot be changed from their true nature.

My writing was better than the people around me.  I believe it scared them.  Unable to grasp the importance of writing.  But, most importantly, they were unable to grasp the importance of me.

One reason writing is so  important not just for me, but for history and historians for years to come – it takes longer to write than it does to speak.  So, to take the time to write to put into words feelings, emotions, and events speaks volumes all on it own.

I am better than they have let me be.

Because I am better.

Oh yeah, and by the way…in case you were wondering…no, I never wanted a fantasy date, lover, boyfriend, husband, friend, partner, or anything else of the kind.  I have ALWAYS wanted nothing but a real date, a real boyfriend, and a real husband – from this you cannot change, nor will it ever change.

I am not actually pretending in a video game, at my job, or in my life.  I am actually trying to design a house(s) that I would want to live in myself.  One that has a functioning kitchen because the one I live in – the kitchen I currently have – is nothing more than a microwave kitchen stop.  Yuck!