"i have seen you in this white light, you are silent"



it is always the silence that kills my soul. your silence, 
his silence, my silence. if i couldn't write, i'd die. you think 
i'm being dramatic, but i'm deadly serious. if i didn't have 
this form of expression, i'd simply implode. there have been 
many times in my life when i've written to stay alive. "finish 
this sentence," i'd tell myself, "then you can die." and that 
sentence would lead to another and another and another until 
i was exhausted and could do nothing but drag myself to bed 
and sleep. sometimes i didn't make it to bed but laid on the floor 
of whatever room my computer was in. before my computer it was 
whatever room i happened to be sitting in to write.

as long as i'm writing, i'm alive.

denise

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