The more I think about it, the more it feels that the book I am working on is one that the ones who know me would hate me for. Why would I want to bring something like that to life? Let alone for the world to read. Little do they know that there aren’t a lot many who would read it. I have always been secretly jealous of writers who have friends and family to read their work. My family isn’t one of them who takes pleasure in reading what I write. I sometimes wonder if they even understand what I do. Not that they don’t support me, but they just aren’t the reading type. Nor do I enjoy the pleasure of having my friends read my pieces. For long I’ve wondered what would it be like to know what they feel of my writing, do they relate, do they find it absurd. But for long, I’ve only wondered.
There I said it!
Consequently, I only rely on what my readers have to say. But truth be told, it wouldn’t hurt to have a loved one say they adore or abhor what I do. It really won’t. And then I sway my thoughts away, and force myself to be satisfied with whatever acknowledgement or appreciation this blog garners. I am grateful for those patrons in foreign lands, those believers in unfamiliar faces. I think of them while I am writing this. I may not be around as much with my words, but I am never not thankful enough. And then, out of nowhere, I see the outline of a face; more like I imagine it, I see it smile. I don’t know if it’s a he or a she. But I am wishing I could meet them, sit down with them, perhaps, over coffee. Watch them pour their thoughts out to me, like I do on paper. Listen to them tell me how they found a friend in my pieces, just like I found in them.
I wish, and wish…
This reader once wrote to me saying not having to read what I write was scary because I was voicing his thoughts; which he could never dare do. So it was a kind of outlet for his own feelings. I felt that. In that moment, I wanted to be facing him; and not a virtual avatar of his, while he said all of this. I craved for his expressions as he opened up, one secret after another. But most of all, I wanted to hold him and assure him that my words would always be by his side. And I wished that promise went lips to ears! Sadly, it went out black on white.