discoveringdesaray

I long for a place of quiet comfort. Where the voices in my head cannot be heard.  Where nothing but silence is of import. I long for a place of stillness. Where I have no places to be or clock to keep. Where there are no requests to be filled. I long for a place of warmth and and rest. Where nothing matters anymore. Where I don't constantly feel an elephant on my chest. I long for a place where questions don't exist. Where uncertainty has no place. Where nothing is lost and nothing is missed. I long for a place where completion and fullness are found. Where good-byes don't exist. Where fear and grief don't abound. I long for a place of courage and strength. Where nothing matters but what is right. Where risk and cost aren't weighed. I long for a place of comprehension. Where chaos and confusion have no place. Where there is no teetering on fences.

I haven't written in awhile. Well, I've been writing, just not here. I've been working on a project. At first the story flowed out of me and had a life of it's own. I had no choice but to tell it. I had ideas on where I wanted it to lead; where I believed it would go. When I would type I would allow the details that were unplanned to flow and allow the story to grow all on its own. But it finished a lot sooner than I expected. It took a turn that I didn't plan or see coming. I'm not upset...it took the best turn it could have taken. But then it was abruptly over and now I have no idea what to write. It's like I hit this amazing high and now nothing. I've got nothing. I feel like I'm floating in this abyss of nothingness. Where do I go from here? What now?