Lately writing anything has seemed impossible when it seemed before such joy, I find myself in a place where there is so much in my head that nothing pours out.  If I were a painter I wonder if I could paint a picture of the thousand words that bombard my head daily.

“Que sera, sera” what will be will be and let’s just say you’ll have to trust me I do know that I am not a painter.  I must add that I write but I’m not a writer either.  I just mostly come here to download a bunch of words that sometimes fall together and make sense to me and sometimes I just download words that make me happy just to have them out of my head.

My problem is too much stuff in my life and not enough substance.  Ah but faith is the substance and I do declare to be one of faith but I began to look around and I find myself alone in a room full of noise and no sound.  Inside of my head the sound is clear, outside of my head the sound seems lost in the sea of noise.

If I make a statement then I must clarify that statement and somewhere in the explanation the statement seems lost in the endless need for debate.  I say what I mean and I truly mean what I say it just appears that most times it’s like I’m speaking a foreign language to those around me.

While everyone else joined the group and learned the accepted way I pondered alone on the backside of the world.  Once or twice in a week I attempt to join in the group and what I hear is noise so I sit shaking my head that everyone is talking and no one is really listening.

I hear the voice inside of me and that voice only criticizes me.  Outside the noise criticizes everyone except the one making the noise.  Is everybody an expert on everything?

I trust the voice inside of me and the voice wants to be heard but when my mouth opens the sound causes eyes to drop with sleep that cannot be awakened, or heads turn and subjects are changed.

I’ve made a decision, I’ve spoken it………..and no one understands………except the voice inside.

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