I’m in an interesting place on this journey. I stripped away everything I thought I knew, only to discover I had never really known anything, and in that never lived—just conformed to life. And now, here I am, standing before others, sharing what I’ve found. It’s surreal. I am Nobody. I am a Nobody. I stay here, in this space, to be the truest version of myself.
Even now, two to three years into this process, my mannerisms, my identity—they’re still shifting, still finding their place. And I’m okay with that. Others might struggle to figure me out, might even feel uncomfortable. And I’m okay with that too.
My words, my writing, my poetry—it’s raw, unpolished. Some might say it’s not even poetry. But it’s me, fully expressed in the moment I write it. And that, in itself, is pure. I don’t write for accolades, for money, or for recognition. I write for myself. My creative writing teacher, Doug Fix, told me that in the winter of 1990-91: Write for yourself. But I didn’t listen back then, so I didn’t know what he meant. I wanted fame, to have shelves of books like Stephen King, to shock the world with my words.
Now, I write simply because it’s within me. And that shift has been the greatest reward of all. I have a relationship with myself I never had before. Where I used to tear myself down out of habit, I now feel free. Writing has become pure joy. There’s a depth I tap into that still surprises me. I find words I never knew were inside, and when they reveal themselves, I’m proud. Sometimes it moves me to tears—the good kind. No longer the tears of self-loathing or defiance.
So, yes, I write from a bare place. I’m okay with not knowing what I used to think I should write. I’m okay knowing the world might not understand or buy into my words. They may not see what I find so fascinating. And still, I smile. Because I write from truth—a place without regret, without offense. I write to bring light, to offer calm, to remind myself and others that everything around us is both what it is and isn’t. And in the end, it’s all beautiful no matter the perspective. The journey is a time kind of thing. Our choice is to either enjoy or endure the time we’re given.
Writing—poetry, essays, blogs—just write your truth. Enjoy it, it will set you free.