Fervor

I've never slept alone

Always waking up beside myself

When you're married to your mind

Worry is an endless wealth

Unhappily in love

I tell myself I have to go

But once the fervors' more familiar

I fear the freedom I don't know

One of the main reasons I started this blog was to re-establish my love for writing. Though I've never strayed from my appreciation of it, often sticking to short-form poetry and songwriting, I yearn for the times of restless nights spent tip-tap-typing away at my next attempt at a novel. I miss the focus, and the dedication to creating something meaningful using only my imagination, especially.

Growing up, I recall filling my notebooks with pages upon pages of stories, poems, and amateur song lyrics. I would spend time at school writing any chance I got, and often would wander around the house in the afternoon daydreaming about what my characters would do next. Further along, I began my infatuation with poetry around middle school, venting my pubescent frustrations through whatever most unnecessarily-niche synonym my thesaurus could provide. This grew into joining my local library's poetry group, and meeting with a room of people four times my age every Friday night to share our work. I loved every second of it, and reveled in the occasional praise I'd receive from the other poets, eventually leading me to perform at my first (and so far- only) spoken word poetry event. I had two pieces published in the library literary newsletter, and truly felt that deep passion for writing more than ever.

Of course, things change. I fell hard into my obsession with theatre, becoming more sure I would pursue it as my main career path. This led to my gradual loss in motivation to spend those same tiring hours writing the next To Kill A Mockingbird, or The Catcher In The Rye. My spark dwindled as my schedule grew.

This is not to say I abandoned my writing altogether, since songwriting (in favor of its brevity) became the medium of choice as the years have gone by. Yet still, I've never lost the pendulous ache that powers all artists to persist in their passion. Within myself, as is within anyone, I have the insatiable desire to communicate my thoughts, feelings, and experiences as a sort of smoke signal to prove that I am here. Existential as it may be, do we not all crave being understood? It's why we fall in love, and why we break apart. Often, it collapses inwards and begs the question of if we truly can understand ourselves, confined to only our limited perspective. And, morbid as it may be, these glimpses into the vast possibilities of the imagination leave fossils of humanity for the generations that follow our death. To empathize, and connect to people from across our apparent differences, are of the endless reasons I could never resist that natural inclination to create.

Let this blog be my flag of dedication, waving into the infinite sky that is the internet.

Who knows? I just might be understood.

-Andie A

Nonfiction or Fiction?

• I can't decide! I love both!
• Fiction
• Nonfiction
• Other (Let me know in the forums!)