title: Empty Handed by Michelle Branch


I think too much. “I’m worried that you’ll find me out, and now like what you see”
I just keep thinking about things. Maybe it’s not that I’m thinking. It’s that I’m feeling. This mood creates such a desire to express, that I can’t concentrate on anything else. This swelling sensation in my chest will not stray, lest I let out the feelings I’ve been holding back with fear.
So often I fear that the product of my expression won’t be eloquent enough. That it won’t accurately portray the complex array of emotion that bounce around in my head.
Rain is inspiring. The rain was pouring down a little while ago, and despite the freezing temperatures, all I wanted to do was stand in it. To run in it. To cry in it.
Things move me. Anything can move me really, but more than anything else, contrast moves me. Darkness against light, traditional against modern, nature against man. All of it moves me to these feelings, and once they’ve been stored up long enough I forget all my fear and express.
This makes sense. If you were too look at the dates of times I’ve written consecutively, you’d notice that it was in times of great distress. This isn’t because of the actual pain of the various situations, but because pain moves me. Pain bottles up more quickly than other emotions so it needs to be expressed more often.
Oh how I’ve missed pondering like this!
Just writing and making realizations as they come out on the page. Letting my fingers type out my thoughts before they have time to pass throught the filters of my brain. Before I can dismiss them as not worth while.
Before I can realize that I jump around too much when I write.
When I allow my thoughts to be raw and genuine, they come out beautifully. When I filter, it seems childish and a complete waste of time.
I love my passion.
I love it with every fiber of my being.
I love Love.

-katie*