I’ve come to the realization that my writing is a never-ending journey. It has its own peaks and valleys just like a mirror to my life and I can’t escape it, even when I try to put it on the shelf and turn my back. It haunts me. It creeps up on me. It is a part of me that either flows through my blood and out to my fingertips or I try to bury it deep within the recesses of my mind. But like a drug addict, I’m never not a writer. Instead, I’m one week clean or three months sober. Tonight, I had to start all over again.
As would be expected, my writing has always been influenced by my experiences. Sometimes it touched on something past or present or hopes for the future. And once I took a closer look, I noticed a pattern too. My writing reflects my romantic relationships. Right after college and what was one of the worst breakups of my life, I went crazy. I took to independence like nobody’s business and I steered with reckless abandon into the life of a wild child. It reflected in the quotes I’d choose to admire and the magazine articles that I wrote. Years later, I was in a relationship that was eye-opening but wrong. I dove deep into myself and reflected a lot. I was trying to find myself and now that I look back on it, I was trying to find my way out of that suffocating love. And now, I’ve begun this brand new relationship that I really value and all I wanted to do was keep it safe. I shut down my blog. I stopped writing my feelings, and dreams, and wishes and I only told him. My hope was that I could focus my energy elsewhere but all the lack of self expression has just left me bursting with things I want to say about all that I hold dear.
I begun this conversation about feminism with him this evening, just like so many other nights, and I couldn’t hold my tongue. The old rusty cogs in my mind started turning with things that I’d learned in graduate school about sociology and women’s rights. These things were never a means to an end for me. I wasn’t simply looking for the degree, I wanted to soak up every morsel of knowledge and spit it back out at the world so that others would understand this isn’t just about me being a wild child or an independent woman or a good girlfriend. I’m a feminist through and through - I believe in the strength of women, I believe that the sexes should be on an equal power footing, and I believe that it’s possible to stop pushing gender roles and start pushing little boys and girls to respect one another simply as human beings.
I don’t just write because it relieves all this building pressure in my mind about my frustration with society. I don’t write just because I think I have a unique point of view in regards to my experiences and those of the people around me. I write because I think that it’s important to let those closest to me know where I stand and what I stand for. These aren’t things that I should be holding in or holding back from. This is who I am - a writer, a feminist, a women who cares.
Tonight I took to my favorite drug again. I swallowed the pill. I shot up the dope. I huffed til I got high. I love writing.
No… I’m addicted to it.
2 years older than me. From a wealthy family. Has his own apartment. Works at a great job.
Has no clue about good wine…Yeah, I’m over him.