In the Beginning Was

This is a new beginning and I don’t know which voice to use. With this piece being the first of a new chapter I have limitless possibilities. It’s intimidating. I already regret these sentences. But it is too late. I have committed to them. The voice is already forming. I can feel it solidifying. Pieces of it at least. There is only time to relinquish.

Unless. I could change it. Those words can be replaced. Everything is ephemeral right now. I can press the delete key. I can start over. How plain. How hideous. How weak. How cowardly. I shall not do it. I will not kill this collection of letters. Imagine being a letter. A newly formed letter. Freshly set upon the page. If I were a just-birthed letter I would clench onto life with all of the strength my new life had given me. Words are holy.

If words are holy we may be in danger. I don’t know. But if they were sentient we would be in even greater peril. Imagine being across the street from “fury”, I don’t think I would survive to tell the tale.

And so, there it is, a voice, right there. I am not so comfortable with what I see before me. But then again, I wouldn’t be comfortable with any collection of words, it just isn’t in my being. The creations of me are victims of me. What falls out of me is sewage. It is waste. The waste of me. Everything that sits here exists as a result of every experience of my life. What an extravagant thing to say. I’m chuckling inside my mind. The audacity of me. But is it true? Maybe.

I thought about my first piece of writing being my second piece of writing. A plan was to write about something, anything, something of an actual topic, not something about writing the first piece of writing, nothing that even mentions that it would be my first piece of writing, just a lovely, serene, light, relaxed piece of something. I haven’t gone that way. I didn’t go that way? I think both sentences are valid. Instead, yes, I am beginning with the beginning. In the beginning was the word.

I think this piece is a mess. What a collection of words. You know, I had desires. Yes, it’s true, I had wants for these words. I had intentions for what they would represent, how they would act, what they would be. No, I can’t reveal them. Those are secrets, ones that exist between the words, or maybe behind the words, or maybe not close to the words at all. But it’s not such a mystery really. I think I have the same wants as any other who chooses to place words together. In fact, it would be a grand shock to me if someone revealed a truth that was far away. It is simple, for me, for you, for we. Isn’t it? It’s just feeling. Feeling. Any sort of feeling. Feeling is the way. Yes, indeed.

06.03.2023