Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three years…That’s how long I have allowed myself to be censored.
Then, buying into the fear, I censored myself. For over two decades. Damn!
The feelings and thoughts…my outlet, my sanity…within my journals have been invaded. And then, refuted……as if feelings are refutable — but they are, apparently.
At least I was persuaded to believe as much…Until I realized my essence was dying. Decomposing. Disintegrating and wasting away. I stopped writing — forsook my essence — because another feared how my essence — or that my essence — would negatively affect posterity.
No more fear.
No experience is a waste; neither an emotion, nor a feeling, nor an expression. We live on. And we do so only because of the reality and result of our pain, regardless how temporal.
© Aja-lexa Hart, 2013.04.07