Time to release the monsters . . .

I need to go to sleep so that I can be a functional teacher tomorrow. I worked my body today and my mind. I fought off sleep most of the evening, preparing myself for bedtime. Well, bedtime is here, and my overactive mind is wide awake.

My mind, my heart yearns to write. I have read a few posts today about us telling our stories, or we are stories within stories, or write our own stories instead of living in some else’s (Chadwick Ray, James Prescott, and Mark Woodring respectively). And I want to write. As I was reading about Frankenstein today,  I realized that I really really want to play God. I want to create worlds and people to populate those worlds. And I want to create new lives. I have so many ideas floating in my mind that they are playing bumper cars with each other and keeping me awake at night. I want to write academically about Frankenstein, I want to explore my interest in monsters and write about them, maybe even create a few of my own. I so desperately want to go back to Ever. She has been so very patient with me as I have left her crouched, quite uncomfortably, in the freezing snow with only a tree to brace herself. I want to go back to Ever’s story and get her out of the snow, but I’m so afraid of where she’ll take me and even more afraid of where she won’t take me.

I have been posting less and less on my blog lately. The writing has been nil. And now all of the people/monsters/ideas waiting to be created are causing an uproar that will soon turn into a stampede. I am excited and terrified of them. I want to write, but I almost feel like I’ve forgotten how. I pray I can remember soon. Because I’m beginning to miss those I’ve only just met, I’m anxious to meet new ones, and I mourn over those that have been left alone far too long.

Sleep is what is required of me now. God, I hope Ever can forgive her creator’s pathetic attempts to bring her life.

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2 thoughts on “Time to release the monsters . . .

  1. There is so much in here that I relate to. You’ve hit it exactly–being afraid of where they’ll take us if we let them. I keep hearing people say we should set our fears aside, but what if we actually gave ourselves permission to be scared? What if we followed the rabbit trail *knowing* that we’re afraid of what’s at the end? Maybe we just need to give ourselves that freedom and bring along a bullwhip, a compass, and an oversized flashlight.

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