I have recently spent many hours contemplating the amount of time I have endured over the course of my life encapsulated within the concrete of hospital walls, entombed in the casing of dry-walled office partitions and shrouded by the protection of the walls of my home. And although I would never described the feeling as being trapped, there is always a moment or two of seeming ensnared by the constraints of my life. The only thing that gave me true escape was writing.
There are no confines and no limits when it comes to imagination. There are no barriers that contain thoughts in one place. Writing allows me the freedom to be outside of my reality and float above my world, if only for a while.
Writing allows me to purvey thoughts and feelings that beg to be unleashed and creates a world of whimsical words. Some of those words are uplifting and some are scarred with truth. Regardless of how the words spill onto the page, the combination of those letters help to break down the barricades of real life and create a portal into inspiration and thought. The hard outer shell of my existence crumbles and opens the road for that creative journey.
No one avenue will be the same. We all have a different artery of language. Each of us is drawn through a different vein of creativity, but the life that writing creates is drawn from the same well.
Writing, for me, is freedom. What does writing mean to you?