Where Are My Words?

Image by Richard Booth

So many others seem to have the right Words. They have the stories, the titles and experiences to tantalize and entrance their audiences into swallowing their personal brand of nectar.

Where are MY words?

When others are asked, “what do you do?”, they enthusiastically gush a fountain of accomplishments and names and secret formulas that make them successful. And then it’s my turn. Because ‘I am not that’, I have no words that orbit in the same solar system as my compatriots. I feel myself floating away, a bit pixelated, like a George Seurat painting, best viewed from a distance.

Where are MY words? The words that shape my name and place in the world. The words that give me form and meaning and relevance.

So many bold warriors, fearless and sharing their words.

There’s the Ego , again — front and center, insuring I don’t forget that so many others are doing what they came here to do. Make a difference with their words, be successful with their programs and their books and podcasts and, and, and, I am not that.

That is the Damocles sword I feel hanging over my head every day, every hour. I am not that. Yet.

I want MY words. The words that roll out of my pen straight from my heart. The words that tell me what I think. The words that make sense of a world that is sometimes hard to reconcile for a Libra seeking equilibrium, fairness and beauty.

I want MY quiet words to be heard and felt in a noisy, flashy world of pomp and illusion.

I want to write my truth, to figure it out, to say NO to all of the distractions of selling tickets to other people’s shows and the social interactions of nothingness with conversations cycling around workouts, carbohydrates and #45.

I don’t want to sell tickets to other people’s shows anymore. I want my own show. A show without a flashy intro and over exuberant promises of fulfillment and happiness. Just the awesome, beautiful TRUTH. Whatever that is today.

Today, I want my words to make a difference. And to tell MY TRUTH.

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