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Mar 19, 2003 Everything around me is falling apart yet I try to pretend that only my world exists. My worlds stem from the keyboard, transporting me to different places, eras, centuries, and realms. I meet many colorful characters rich with personality, dialogue, humor and intriguing lives. Their jobs change, their identities change, but they are still there, waiting for me to direct them and write out their adventures. This is my time to escape. In truth there isnt a whole lot about the real world that I find positive. The affirmations I try to recite end up out the window the very next day. All the work I do seems to get lost as I delve deeper and deeper into trying to figure out who I am, and what I want to do. But now there is the real world, trying to pull me away from the places I find comfort and solitude. People dont understand, I dont want to hear about it, I scarcely want to know about it. I cannot help that others cant just find a way to get along and work around people they dont care for. We dont have to like each other, just find ways to share this world we live in. Since 9/11 war has been shoved down my throat like an unwelcome preaching of religion. I dont like it, promote it, accept it, agree with it, or understand it. Honestly, I dont even try. As a mother I will protect my son the best way I know how. As a loving partner I will do my best to accept his habits that I find annoying yet charming at the same time. I worry the last time I saw my parents was when I was waving goodbye to them as I moved to another place. Things are closing in around me and I feel like I am suffocating. Not good when you dont care for small places in the first place. There is nothing about war that interests me or intrigues me. I dont care to watch the thousands of videos that all end with the basic premises that a lot of lives were lost, yet there were a few heroes. I dont care to watch bodies ripped apart, torn, blown up, or shot open. Why would I subject myself to such heartless cruelty? I realize someone somewhere lives for this stuff, has been a part of it, feels a sense of understanding in watching it, but not me. I have better things to do with my time. The war with myself is to get lost in my writing. Open a journal or log on and start a blank page, I dont care, I am compelled to write. Every thought, idea, word that pops in my head ends up somewhere, staring at me, asking for me to give it a voice. And I oblige willingly. In my worlds there is sometimes blood, gore, and violence but I balance that with writing fantasy and childrens stories. My poetry comes from a spiritual place and the glorious visions Mother Nature provided us fuels my imagination and gives me inspiration with which to express myself. If I cannot write, I cannot sleep. It is what sustains my life and makes me a better and more understanding person. But I can write about anything and know that it is just a story, sometimes true, but I can put the pen down, close the journal, turn off the computer, and slip back into the real world. With the thought of war fast approaching I only want to shield myself from the details and the pain. I dont want the ugliness and darkness to seep into my veins, ridding me of the prose and words in my mind, constantly churning, waiting for their turn on paper. I dont want to sit back and watch the battle of good and evil to ever take the side of evil. I want it to be fiction, where people wake up and realize it was all a bad dream and they can get back to the humdrum of their lives. It may be humdrum, but at least its their version of normalcy. I dont want my son to be able to say he was alive during a terrible war with high death tolls and few survivors. It breaks my heart to think I brought him into any kind of harm. I want him to have innocence for as long as he can and take solace in his daydreams and imagination. To know that while you dont have to get along with someone, you can still be nice and go about your own business. I worry about bullies and hurtful words that could possibly bring him down or wound him while I try to shield him from the larger bullies who threaten mass destruction. Whether its milk money or a bomb, why is there always someone who is compelled to be the one leader of the world? There is enough room for all of us to live together, not in harmony, but to live, why waste precious time fighting? I feel a heavy weight upon my shoulders. All the escaping into my writing cant seem to stop the darkness of life from creeping up. My emotions threaten to burst at once like a dam, spewing forth tears and cries, to scream and shout, to beg and plead, to curse and condemn. This isnt the world I want to be in. What I wouldnt give to find a mirror and walk right through, travel to a new place and time. Live where there is peace and balance. To seek out adventures and watch my son grow and flourish, knowing there is safety around him at all times. I want to grow old with the man I love and watch the stars in the sky. Instead I fear I am going to miss out on these things. But for now I guess I will keep writing, though my emotions are so mixed and my thoughts are swirling out of control. I will keep the television off, headphones on my ears, drowning out the sickness, chaos, tragedy, and pain that is happening around me. Not because I dont care but because it is where I feel comfort, safety, and peace. I dont ask others to share my views or opinions, just to revel in the fact that you are allowed to have your own opinion and find comfort in not following the ideas of everyone else around you. I have my own demons to battle, every single day. I do not wish to take on those of the world. About the author: Nancy Jackson is a full time author and poet with works in Literati, Twilight Times, Anotherealm, Sonny World, and various anthologies. Her pasttimes include spending time with her loved ones, drinking wine, and lots of writing! Email Nancy Jackson: coryann93@yahoo.com ------------ Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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