Axiom

There was a draft that I had started when I fully intended on writing about a week ago.
That draft was only a sentence which to me indicates that the feeling I had never overcame the burden of the act of writing. This feeling is not unique to typing, often times I feel this to an extreme degree with calligraphy, I wonder if this feeling is indicative of the value of the expression.
Is it easier to speak with my mouth because those words are cheaper?
Of course halfway through that I realized how often I type garbage into voids so, maybe it’s only a volume issue, perhaps only handwriting is valuable.

I believe I have come closer to a nexus of myself, a place where my skills and knowledge all seem to intersect, I often struggled with the ideas of myself being an artist. I thought I could only modify, that grew and grew until I became painfully aware that I was, in fact, creating.

That fragile part of myself lodged in the twilight of my life a precious thing that I continue to feed, sometimes I scare myself when I smirk as I win at something. Worried I could grow cocky. So I’ve been feeding my peaceful side too, mandatory tea, mandatory breathing, it’s not quite the void that meditation is but it’s a start. I’ve been listening more, trying to acknowledge my wrongs, good habits, good choices.
I still have a lot that I’m worried about, I’m still not quite free but I’m learning, I’m growing and every day who I am is something that just makes sense.

Things won’t be this easy forever, I know that, I know that where I am now, is the same as where I was before.
I was there, now I’m here.
I took steps into the unknown and explored the world.
As the world grew so did I
I grew right?
Right?
I think I stayed small and the world seemed that way but in reality, I stayed the same and only realized that I undervalued the sheer mass of this world.
I’ve gained something precious within myself, something that comes from not one part of me but everything. A manifestation of the me-isms that never could prosper, this idea of filling the gaps. You remember right diary? I used to despise my desire to fix, because I fixed the wrong things, I never understood that my steps forward were sometimes backward.
I never realized taking time sometimes meant moving forward.