Not quite the same. . .

Gone – flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
~Alfred Tennyson

Tonight I need a journal; a quiet private place that nobody can see. I need an ear where I can whisper secrets,  without worrying that they’ll travel. I need a friend that’s bound in paper where only far-removed future strangers might read what I scratch down.

But my journals sit stacked in my nightstand, full of old sermon notes, forgotten prayers, and silly sad sketches. They’re like a friend who moved away, and with the distance, we lost our intimacy. I can’t quite bring myself to pour my soul into those pages again. It’s just been too long. We’ve grown apart.

Like a shallow new friendship that only serves to remind me of the void left by more meaningful modes of expression, I sit in front of this computer screen. Somehow it lacks the depth and whispery thoughtfulness of the old pages, but it is what I have.

I barely know how to confide right now.

My heart feels drenched, but with saltwater, like a big beautiful beach of teary fullness. I don’t know if you write about this confusion, or if you just sit with it. Some things cannot be written for sharing, but still should be written. Isn’t that so?

Published by Abby

Dabbling in decoratives is an ongoing obsession. I love having a go at This, That and the Other. . . tackling projects that tickle my fancy, hoarding costumes (for the "Someday" that I own a dress-up tea-house for grown-ups) and hosting themed parties whenever I am not immersed in teaching French and Writing to high school students. In the interest of full transparency, there's something serious you should know: I overuse the ellipsis . . . frequently. Embarassingly enough, it seems to be the punctuation that best captures my stream of thought as it flits off of one subject and towards the next!

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