Tuesday, October 9, 2012





I am ready. I am ready to embark on a new journey. Maybe, I am thinking to myself, that if I call myself a writer i will eventually believe my own words, and i will write, and isn't it true that a writer is someone who writes.
The only person that I need to convince here is myself. If I say it enough times, I will believe it. Believing it will make it happen. From now on i am a writer.

Having agreed with myself, now I can begin.

I am embarking on a new journey. There is no airplane, no boat, no means of physical transportation. What I am using is only my heart and no one can question the power or force of that.

I understand and can commit to the understanding that there may be times that I will wish that I had chosen differently, there may be times that I wish that I had had better luck in certain areas. I give you the ticket, it is in your hands now, and together we board this passageway. Romance. No, not this time. Seduction, no, not on this ship. How about, some dance, something elusive, yes's and no's and maybe's thrown around like petals on a treasure hunt. No, not for me. I have had enough of these. Then, what? True Love. Don't you think that that just might be a little much for you. To venture out onto such a journey. And injured still.

Yes, this is where I am heading for. Yes, these are the roads that I travel. I have plucked enough dandelions and wished enough dreams for a city of twelve year-old girls.

I am no longer budding. My breasts are full-blown. Pretty balloons of any color that you wish them to be. They are real. I have grown them tenderly with love since a very young age. At night I hold on to them, they are mine.

I won't be journeying alone this time. That is precisely the essence of it all. I am giving up something that I have cherished even when cherishing it meant crying out and praying with tears for something, for someone to fill in the gap of loneliness. I am handing it in, giving it up. And I am doing all of this with a smile. And with some indian food in my gut holding me back.

Surrender. Of course this is about surrender. But, nowadays, surrender is easy, have i not spent years, decades, life-times surrendering my self to pain...

To surrender myself to love, should not be harder. No, it will not be harder. And if there will be fear, it will be of a different sort. A sort that i would prefer not to conceive of but that I know is there, for me, for all of us.

So, before I meet you tomorrow, surrendering to you own need, remember that you chose how and where and when and why and that there is no going back...

Once you begin, it continues with a volition all of its own. And if you think that you will be able to make sense of it all, as you are swept into it, remember that true writers are written by their books and not the opposite.

It is your very words that will create the reality that you will live in. And needless to say, don't deceive yourself by thinking that because you are the one writing that you can control the situation.

Surrender means surrender. And because your life has steered itself to hell and back, maybe you are finally ready to accept the truth about love:::

And so tomorrow I will pin my hair up exactly to make me look young and innocent and I will meet you, knowing that you too are ready to hold my hand into everything that we cannot as yet conceive and may be never will be able to.