I have things I want to write.
I have stories to tell.
I know the words I want to use.
I just haven't yet. So I've left these words unwritten.
These unwritten words are just sitting right below me waiting for me to save them up from the barren island I've abandoned then on.
These words I want to say have been patient while I hem and haw over how I plan on if I want to land my plane and pick them up.
The problem is I'm chickenshit. I'm a coward. I'm terrified of writing because I still live as a slave to how I'm perceived. Putting out my more honest work opens me and leaves me vulnerable...and that is a terrifying proposition.
Instead I just keep being safe and writing things that never move the needle. I keep flying over the words that I really need to be using.
The problem is now those unwritten words are becoming less patient by the day. They are demanding to be picked up and to be recorded. They are challenging me to remove that yellow stripe on my back. I'm not sleeping or eating well. I'm starting to look like Charlie Sheen. I'm haunted.
These unwritten words have now lit the signal fire and are awaiting their rescue.
I hope I have the courage to pick them up.