Ik ben iemand die voornamelijk schrijft voor zichzelf. Als anderen daar steun aan hebben of herkenning in vinden is dat een bonus. Schrijven heeft me inmiddels heel veel gebracht al, veel meer dan ik had durven vermoeden.
Showing my colors
The words I write
are not just words.
They are more than me bleeding red tears, filled with grief or anger or both.
They are more than enthusiastic shared ink in a happy yellow when I'm genuinely happy.
I was never good at dancing.
So I didn't dance – almost never did.
But when I write, someone turns the music on.
And my fingers, mind, heart and soul are starting to move.
They sometimes share a heavy and quite melancholic waltz.
Sometimes the Jaws-music is put on in breathless tension.
There are times they move quickly on the beat of happy pop music.
And sometimes they start to headbang while I'm screaming on the inside and remind myself of the metal music.
The words I write
are more than words.
They are my way to express black holes of grief, red anger, yellow happy, green space, purple spirituality, pink acceptance, blue depth.
For the words I write aren't just some part of me, they are me – trying to express myself through them.