Although I very much risk the chance of repeating myself, I love words. Especially the written word. I love getting notes and cards and letters. Writing something takes time and thought. It tends to be less sloppy than when we speak without fully understanding what we are saying. I suppose like all things, it is different for every person. I, however, want to be written to and my best expression of myself is found if I take the time to write to you.
When I first became pregnant I bought a journal for my baby. I wanted to give her a gift of my thoughts, feelings and all the happenings of my pregnancy with her. It started off well but I slowly began avoiding writing. The thought always came up but I brushed it aside. I couldn't connect my feelings to my words. Or maybe yet, I didn't want to. There was too much I felt like I couldn't say and too much I felt obliged to. I didn't want to be fake, so I stopped writing.
My darling little girl will be here soon and I only have a third of a journal filled out. My desire to pick up the pen is burning but I feel as though I'm being blocked as well. I don't know what to make of this fear.
Perhaps one day, I'll make a bit of sense.
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