real talk

Two drafts are in my folder and my last post was last year. Let’s get real, here: I am a sporadic blogger at best. Yet at night I suffer the screaming of a brain that just won’t shut up. Phrases and images and entire stories unravel as I slide into sleep, avoided during the daytime and exploding in frustration as I finally relent. A punishment for ignoring my own ideas, they keep me awake. And so often I will close my eyes and ears and heart, letting them drift away forever.

I have two weddings to shoot this weekend, though, and with the season imminent I see no weekend relief in sight for writing. It’s time to make time. Ignore some other responsibilities for once and let out the ideas that are beating against the walls, rattling chains and pulling my shoulders into a tight wad of tension. Maybe I will find relief here, then, this little space on the vastness of the world-wide web. Shit may get dark, or ridiculous, or silly/light/anxiety-ridden. A warning label when labels and categories can’t possibly cover what I cannot myself identify. Don’t you hate the black-and-whiteness of categories? A world of opposites and separation, the “is” and the “is not”? Just know this: I love metaphors and images. I love music and poetry. I love to be ridiculous and contemplative. All of these things, all of these ways will I let it all out. All of me. I think I know myself, but clearly I have no idea. This is the diary of Kelli Unexplored.

Let it also be said that I am afraid and anxious. The release I feel when I write is muddled by the darkness. The unknown. The potential people on the other end of the wire, reading and judging. Or possibly worse, the silence and shame of an empty audience – nobody reading at all. Either way, know each time I hit Publish, a twinge roots until I have an entire garden of weeds that require more writing to cull. I am an endless cycle, and that is why I am here. Because I have to keep culling, writing, releasing, or else the darkness will take over and choke out everything else.

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