Let it Burn

He was my Darcy. However, in my version of events, he was all grump and no charm. My writer's heart and fallen for a character I had thought come to life only to realize far too late that the real deal is still buried deep in the pages and masterful words of P. & P.

"R. I. P. to my dreams and my passions," was my motto with him. My diploma says 3.8 but my relationship GPA was far too disparaging to grade.

Now that I've taken out the trash, I can rekindle my lifelong romance with wordsmithing. Oh, to feel the words flow through my fingers again. It is like water to a parched soul. The deadly desert is now a lush oasis. Like a cleansing, controlled burn, I am ignited by the fire that must set my pages ablaze or I risk my mind becoming a victim of its inferno.

During my prison sentence with that fool, I thought I was no longer a writer; perhaps it was just phase. Now, I realize that this craft was never simply a phase but rather an assigned mission that was simply hiding until it was safe to come out again.

My heart is healed, stronger than ever and ready to fire shots of retaliation at Cupid. Why would I ever trust a diapered man baby with my love life anyway?

Breathing in the mahogany scent of my long-abandoned desk and relishing in the cool metal of my typewriter, I am exhilarated by the punchy sound that first letter makes hitting the paper, a.k.a. my ticket to freedom. My speed increases as my story roars to life.

Sometimes, carrying a torch for the wrong person lights the way to the path you strayed from for so long. Other times, you are kept warm as you use it to burn the bridges and villages you once built together. Either way.... ;)