She liked words.
She liked the sound of them, the look of them, the revolutions they caused. She read them, she sang them, she screamed them, she wrote them.
Sometimes they were all she had.
Sometimes they weren’t.
She tried to control them, to put them on paper and make them her own. But that was not for her. Her thoughts flew and she found that as she reached for them they slipped away to supply some other lucky person with their brilliance. She wondered how her head could keep so much bottled up when there could be peace through something so obvious, so simple. But no. It was not for her. No. Why not? No.
What was for her? What could be hers to be proud of, to give her joy, to give her purpose?
She was told of gifts. Gifts that were given, gifts that were special. She was told that she had them, told that she employed them. When did she get these gifts? How did she miss it? How could she be expected to know what to do with things she didn’t even know she had? So she’s gifted. She’s talented. Okay.
She’s talented. She loves many things. She wonders what future there is to these loves, these infatuations she has. She wants glamour. She wants excitement and she wonders…wonders…wonders. And she wonders. But wondering is not any form of action. It’s wondering. She realizes this but still she remains wondering…
Are these talents pushing her toward the future of her dreams, the one meant for her? Or are they holding her back in their own vicious form of bondage? She doesn’t know. She feels she doesn’t know anything. Anything. There is no future for someone who knows nothing, only blank nothing. Nothing is the most fearsome thing she has ever thought of. She struggles against her thoughts, struggles against herself, her mind. Can you overcome your own logic?