This short-short, as it is called, is being published by Old Mountain Press in an anthology called, Words: A Poetry and Prose Anthology — http://www.oldmp.com/anthology/words.htm.
I believe in words. Ever since I was young. sitting on a bus feeling lonely, I have needed to share the words that gave shape and texture to my thoughts. I often call myself the Over-sharer. I email friends deep thoughts and feelings. Asking them philosophical questions, like if they worry about what kind of world their children will live in. I rarely get a response. I asked them, “Why doesn’t anyone reply to my emails?” Amy said, “You’re too deep. Keep it light.”
I guess that doesn’t work for me. Keeping it light for me is like light beer to someone who has always drank Guinness. I guess the taste wouldn’t make me feel full.
I feel full with words. They fill a vacuum and void. Words were always there for me. No matter what the fight, what the crisis, what the high or low was. I always had words. Words always had me.
I had words when I exchanged my vows. I had words when my child was born. I had words when my mother was diagnosed with brain tumors. I had words when my father died and the only way I could escape the gasping pain was through writing.
I believe in words and I believe in sharing. I just can’t keep it light, because light doesn’t do. Heavy are the words in my brain and sometimes they are light like raindrops, but they fall in mass storms. So I do share. And I do write. And thus I over-share.
Writing is a part of my life. I do call myself a writer. And I over-share. I am proud to be the words that people read.