My Pen is Mightier than my Sword–It is my Savior

My beautiful friend is the proud new owner of a shiny sparkler.  That’s right, she’s engaged, and I couldn’t be happier for her.  She is one of the most deserving people I know and love has found her.  Soon she will be a Mrs. and my girlfriends and I excitedly wait to stand by her during what is sure to be a magical wedding.

As I put pen to paper and write, I drift away and wonder: will anyone ever make me as happy as I am now?  When I am lost in my personal thoughts and expression?  Will I be lucky in love, as my amazing friend is?  I am not so sure anymore.

I was in love once. Sure, feelings of puppy love and infatuation are always there, but I’m talking over-the-moon-can’t-live-without-you kind of emotion.  I loved him, I was crazy about him.  But, eventually, as all things in life do, the love faded away and it all ended.  And that was OK—I am the better for it.  But I wonder, will I ever feel that amazing high again?  And am I crazy for being an outsider of love?

When I write, I lose myself.  What used to be a daunting challenge has now become my best friend.  The lined paper is supportive, the voice is strong, and it is my voice that carries me through.  Will I ever feel passionate about another person the way I do for writing?

Diamond sparklers, marriages and babies are supposed to be what life is all about.  All these things center on the universal feeling of love.  And since the day I was born, I’ve been in love with love.  As I’ve grown older and been burned by the harsh sunlight of love, I’ve realized that I am happy being independent, satisfied being me, on my own terms.  Will love come in and ruin the strength I’ve worked so hard for this past year?

When I’m in love, I turn, well, stupid.  My brain loses all function and my heart, that ditzy blonde, takes over my life.  All actions during this time cannot be a reflection of me—I am not responsible.  Since releasing myself from this love and the pain of the past, I’ve dedicated myself to me.  I’ve focused on my own needs and on bettering myself.  Why did I allow someone to abuse me?  Why did I stay in a toxic relationship?  These are all questions I’ve had to face and seek answers to… and to say it’s been difficult is a gross understatement.

I’ve come so far and found a voice that was only a faint whisper one year ago.  Children and marriages are wonderful—but so is loving who you are, on your own.  Instead of longing for a lavish wedding and beautiful romance, I dream of the day in which my voice is heard by millions of others.  I anticipate the time in which I can finally make it on my own and write in between the lines of life. 

Maybe my path in life will be far different from the status quo, and maybe some tiny part of me is satisfied with that.  To hear my own voice in a world of chaos would be the ultimate quench of longing. 

“I believe that – if you are serious about a life of writing, or indeed about any creative form of expression – that you should take on this work like a holy calling. I became a writer the way other people become monks or nuns. I made a vow to writing, very young. I became Bride-of-Writing. I was writing’s most devotional handmaiden. I built my entire life around writing.” –Elizabeth Gilbert

I am a girl who wears her big heart on her sleeve—and who cannot wait to write on the sleeves of the world.  I love this romance I share with writing—and I wouldn’t trade it for anything (or anyone) in the world.

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