Beg(end)ings

I’ve never been any good at starting a paragraph. Never been good at figuring out the perfect sequence of words, or how to keep the story alive. Truth is, I’m more concerned about the end of something, rather than the beginning. And honestly, it’s hard. Hard to try and convey the entire story into a sentence of about 5 words, to try and entertain you until the very end. But you were never really about beginnings either, were you?

Even now, as I sit here in this hollowed out coffee shop, typing the very words before your eyes, I’m writing two things at once. One idea above this one, more gears shifting in the clocktower inside my head. My attention span is not the problem, believe me, but the fact that there is so much to say and do, that I struggle to contain each idea with patience. And perhaps that’s why I struggle with beginnings; they’re painfully slow and I might as well be diagnosed with ADHD, with how fast my fingers are typing, the way my eyes dart around the screen, where my heart shutters and electricity sparks with interest and captivation. I never end up liking the starting words anyways; it seems as though there is a pressure to convey the entire storyline in so few words, and honestly how could you? Did you learn any lessons, did you finally hear that click of ontological clarity in that one tiny sentence? I bet you didn’t.

To Kill a Mockingbird, a book anyone with an English major has read, starts off with, “When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.” Tell me, did you conclude the story then? Do you figure out why it was a sin to kill a mockingbird, from those 16 words?

Not in the slightest. So let me end my little rant, for all of our sake.

Beginnings were never the best part, because after all, you were never really about beginnings either, were you?