Despite It All

Putting pen to paper is something I've done ever since I learned to write. 

My first poem was written with a green crayon in third grade.
I pondered the meaning of life in that poem, questioned the notion of God, described my point of view on angels, and may have even thrown some suicide ideation into the mix. A masterpiece, obviously. 

I went on to write short stories all through my elementary school years. I am pretty sure it was because I had a bit of a childhood obsession with O. Henry. The mystery of the name "O" made me wonder who they were. And perhaps it made me believe that I myself, can also be "O."  

There was a phase in fifth grade, when I wrote magazines or newspapapers. YES - full megazine and/or newspapers that consisted of:
1. Cover Page
2. Table of Contents. 
3. Editor's note. 
4. Articles. 
5. Ads! (I wonder what for!?) 
6. 'Jokes' page.
7. 'Recipe of the day' page. 
8. My attempt at a comic/illustration. 

Clearly my writing was on a roll. And the poetry continued throughout. Never ceazed, really. Years later, screenplays entered my writing sphere, plays, monologus, even a novel, a self help book... clearly: I was now a writer. I AM now a writer!
Except that since October 7th, 2023 I have not written a thing. Does it make me not a writer? No. It makes me traumatized, sad, broken, angry, horrified, overwhelmed... all the feelings that keep my fingers too shakey to hold a pen. But I am here, now, attempting to connect to myself. To restore. To nurture. To open back the floodgates of creativity. Maybe despite the horrors of October 7th. Maybe because of them. 
​
When something wants to dim your light, SHINE BRIGHTER and blind that thing into hell.