Unburying things, 'n' stuff.

So I found some old memories, and I unburied some more truth.

I've been talking to a "friend" of mine from Canada for a little while. She's having a bit of trouble writing, if you can call it trouble. I'm not sure, she just starts and finishes not. But I just try and give a helpful nudge every once and a while.

But the truth that I might have unburied is why I do this sort of thing. Why I try to help people with their little inconveniences, and troubles with perception or pain or whatever else... It might totally be centered around me. Like, not entirely selfish, but it might be that every time that I correct someone, or remind them of something, or introduce them to something new, it's about me being reminded of something. That helping people like this helps me without asking for it. Talking to her about her own writing brings mine back into the spot light. I went digging for some that is rather old, and some that is somewhat new, sort of to share, but I'm not really sure...

And I found some. The ones that I was looking for, and more. And that's the past that was unburied. The last things that I wrote for a story I wrote when I was dating. That's how long it's been for me. It hasn't really been a year yet, but it has been a lifetime. Seriously, I haven't hardly written a thing since then. I've written maybe three poems and some 15 or so pages of history for a character, but nothing on my huge tasks of writing that I already had. Of course, now when I look at such things I remember. I remember wrting conjunctive stories. I see the art that I was going to use, all which has a negative meaning now.

Maybe that's been my problem all along, that I should have collected each and every thing and burned it in hellfire. That I should have burned it all from my memory? But there's too much. That's why I haven't. I'd have to get rid of so much. So I leave it. Almost exacly where it lies. To be found in a month's time and unearthed yet again, and again, and again.

Such an odd thing.

Not really sure what to do about all that.

But eventually I will return to my writing. I know that I've said it before, but I do mean it. It was there before all of this, and it surely will be there long after. I'm just waiting for some set of great inspiration. But then maybe that's why I'm posting. My "friend" could be that inspiration if I take hold. But not now.

Way too early. I shall retire soon...