“Hey kid…you ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?”
Make no mistake; writing can be intimidating. Blogging is not an entirely natural phenomenon for me, being an individual who values her privacy. I do, however, love and need to write so, occasionally, I fight my inclinations toward reticence and unleash my word-horde, as Beowulf would have it.
Today, my composure has been shaken by something as unassuming as a sentence prompt. In the attempt to jog my mind into action, it has released a river of feelings I have hoped to bury for good. I do not wish to think about this event, on a Friday of all days at the end of a very long week. Even now my mind is screaming at me, begging me not to post this. Why can’t I write about revisiting old blog posts and cringing, or raging against Chris Brown, or gushing about how much I love Fringe and/or John Noble?
Perhaps it is time to exorcise this ghost, once and for all.