How do I write my own story
How do I use these margins as a springboard
That will propel my words across the lines of this unmarked paper
How do I shape a mountain out of the scattered boulders littered across this flat terrain
How do I create the spark
That will ignite this dry kindling into a blazing bonfire
How do I stir these stagnant waters to motion
How do I begin to carve this block of stone into a statue
That will continue to speak my legacy after my voice has withered away to dust and ashes

Until now I have coloured within the boundaries printed on the pages set before me
I have created perfectly generic and acceptable images that have brought me praise for my ability
But they were not my own ideas
The outlines were slipped onto my desk by well-meaning adults simply doing their jobs
I believe it’s time I graduated to a blank canvas

I want my colours to blossom across every inch of the space I have
I want to dabble in fiery reds, deep blues, and ultimately rich purples
I want my purpose to be seen in the aim of my paintbrush
I want my worth to be felt in the warm glow of art
I don’t want my paint to fall in aimless splatters
I want to trace the silver lining that has gone ahead of me my whole life
A bright arrow leaving a glowing trail behind
Cutting like a knife through the darkness

But now I see that the seeds of a story have already been planted in my soul
All they need is rain and sunshine, care and time,
Before they will spread beautiful leaves
And reveal an intricate network of branches for all to see

Small shoots of new life poke up through the raw earth
The birds’ song can now be heard in the absence of the howling winter wind
Everything that froze and died and was lost through the long cold months
Has been mourned
And now it is time to begin again

Now it is time to let go and live
To plant new seeds of joy and hope
To enjoy the long hours of sunshine that have been so desperately missed
To remove the bulky layers of armour that are no longer necessary

It’s time for the world to wake
For every creature to shake off its snowy slumber
It’s time for every bitter, frost-bitten heart to heal
Such icy emotions cannot sustain their frozen grip in the warmth of the summer sun

It’s time for every tree to feel for its roots and find a foothold in the supporting soil
So it can propel itself towards the sky
And throw its arms up in surrender to its inevitable victory

And though the weather is wild,
I feel the winds of change blowing open the door to a new season

I may be a mess but that’s ok
I’m just a rough draft
My stanzas may be uneven
My rhyme scheme nonexistent
But I carry the seeds of a masterpiece

These scattered scribblings will someday mature into defined and refined lines
My tiny wriggling tadpoles of thought will grow legs and a voice
They will explore territory they never dreamed existed

This writer’s block will topple off the edge of my desk and fall to the floor with a clatter

My words will burst through the dam,
First in awkward little leaks
But then in strong, steady streams
That leap forward into unfamiliar territory
With a laugh and a gleeful scream

These nattering notes will resolve themselves into chords and phrases
A motif will leap out of the disordered madness
Stumbling steps will lead to confident strides
And the audience will be satisfied

But for now I remain unfinished

I’m sorry I’m so clumsy
Some days it seems like the world is fighting me at every step
And I’m losing the battle
I stumble over every stubborn staircase
I trip over my tongue like an uneven rug
Every new set of walls is a labyrinth I get lost in
Every move I make is disjointed and uncertain
My fingers and feet flail when I’m carrying precious, fragile things
And before I know it I’m sprawled on the floor
Surrounded by shattered fragments
Bruised and aching
Burning with humiliation and frustration

But I’ll try to be careful.
If you will be brave enough to trust me
I will try to keep my steps in line and my path straight
I will try to find the rhythm in the song of my surroundings

I will try to see beyond my limitations
My faults, my failures, my frequent falls
I will try to look up and see the beauty in the world
Instead of staring at my feet in fear
I may trip at times
But I will not be trapped in trepidation

I ask for your patience
I am trying to be patient with myself too
My best is all I can really do
And I will do what I can to be the best for you

Rock rises and falls
Civilisations of stone that flourish then sink into the ground
The strained breaths of an earth constantly at war with itself

Glaciers and mountains form frozen scars on its weathered skin
Crushed and worn and beaten down by years of elemental abuse
Beautiful structures remain when the dust has settled.

Old and wise as tortoises
Their shells are mottled with brilliant white snow and evergreen forests
They pierce the sky and send sunlight spiralling in new directions

Steady
Stable
Sturdy
They are a testament to transformation

I can’t stay here
I can’t run from reality anymore
This flimsy tent of white paper and black ink will not hide me from the howling storm outside

The cardboard cutouts of people that I’ve propped up against the walls of my mind
Won’t satisfy this ache for human connection
This painted scenery can never replace the mountains and forests I’ve forsaken
Their depth and dimension will always elude me
Unless I choose to step outside and accept their embrace
Bright hues of bright blue and yellow won’t give me the freedom of open sky

I can play whatever role I wish in this hidden performance shielded by stage curtains
But when the makeup is washed away
My identity will remain the same unanswered question mark
I may be safe from the audience’s potential heckles and jeers
But that is because there is no audience at all
I perform for empty seats because I dare not hope for real applause
The only answer to my voice is an empty echo that grows smaller and disappears

The statues I carve that guard these gates will never be breathed to life
While the stone that shapes their bodies may be stable and constant
They will never provide the warmth and will of a real person

No, I must escape

I must lay the cardboard cutouts quietly in the corner
I must take a final bow and leave this hollow theatre
I must step outside the protection of my stone sentinels
I must push aside the pages of my paper prison though they may rustle in protest
I must breathe the fresh air no matter the weather or season
I must make clumsy, fallible connections with other clumsy, fallible people

One day when I am brave enough I will invite them into my familiar sanctuary
On that day there will be no more masks or roles
The only part I will play is myself
I will release my voice into their custody and trust them to do as they see fit
But I will no longer rehearse for that day
The real stage awaits me
And so does my audience

I am change
And the opposite of change.
I am the turbulent turning of the tides
And the repeating rhythms that hold them in place.
I am the relentless forward march of time
And the regular rotations of a clock.
I am the frenzied lunges of a caged animal
And the immovable bars that keep it confined.
I am perpetually in motion
Yet I am confined by strange laws and forces beyond my control.

I yearn for freedom.
I am enslaved by the grooves that hold this roller-coaster in its blind orbit.
I am exhausted by this robotically rambling train of thought that never leaves its tracks.
I am weary of this winding waterway that chases its tail in a helpless cycle,
That only leads inevitably to the same heights of hope and depths of despair.

I want to wander and know that I won’t simply return to where I began.
I want to write a new story where I do not already know the ending.
I want this story to have a real absolute ****** and real absolute resolution.
I want to break the machinery that has fused with my heart and brain and spirit.
I want to hear the scream of steel and hissing of wires as it is scattered into lifeless fragments.
I want to hear the roller-coaster’s final chuffs of protest as it grinds to a halt.
I want to know that it is finished and I am only beginning.
I want to live and know that I am truly alive.