I Write Because I Breathe
It Is Me…Inside Out
I could no more stop writing, then I could stop the breath that fills my lungs. As I long for air, I long for the telling of the day.
As I am surrounded by life, I find the air to be alive with adventure, full of all emotions…a tangle of the plain and simple, or the tragic and painful. Questions fill my heart and mind.
On any day, we find ourselves in the middle, at the door of begin, or teetering on the edge of end. We are touched by crisis, love, hate, pain, gain, sadness and joy. We are blasted with the opposites in all things. I seek understanding of it all.
I find it in the telling.
As I live, I am constantly striving to see the why, the how, the what’s next. I crave solutions, and the eradication of problems.
I find them in the telling.
I talk about my mother’s blindness, and I see. I tell of my dad’s sacrifice for others, and I witness purpose. I tell of a cop’s life, I see mine. I write about children, I feel the future. I talk of patriotism, I hunger for truth and peace. I discuss families, I reach for connections.
Writing gives me today, bridges yesterday, and touches tomorrow with a birth of wisdom. To experience, to know, to understand, is to write.
Then, once gain is felt, it must be shared to be of value. To write, is to share.
Any moment, of any day, I can not think of any incident that skips being written in my mind for a story, a lesson, a reason to continue in life.
To tell it, to write it down, to seek the humor, the why and why now, allows me, no causes me to continue my journey, and find the paths that join me with those who live.
If you and I walk together, so much greater is the joy.
I am Marisue, and I write.
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