I have had this urge to write but I have been avoiding it for some reason.

So, I am sitting my ass down in the chair and having a go at it.

My little old brain keeps getting distracted, wandering off to other things. And, I am distracted by the pain in my legs. And, by the feeling of sexual need in my genitals.

BUT, what needs to be written?

What wants to be said, to be written down.

I am afraid. I am afraid that I will continue to piss away endless amounts of money: trying to ‘buy’ friendship and love; trying to make a name for myself; looking for answers in books (bought at great expense); and then BLAM I will be sick in bed and AGAIN will not have accomplished a fucking thing.

What am I so fucking afraid of?

Why do I avoid working on my work?

Why do I piss endless time away on useless people like JT, LR, and GS?

Why do I avoid sitting my ass down and writing?

Why do I avoid creating and promoting a bloody workshop or something like that?

It’s not the hard work required to do those things: though it’s tempting to blame it on that.

What the fuck is it?

Why don’t I just write my memoirs, or my novel? Why don’t I just get the fuck on with MY WORK?

I am afraid.

Who is afraid?

Ah! One of the little guys inside.

The abused one. The hurt one. The sad one. The one who risked it all … and, was tortured for that.

I, TWO, am afraid.

I need to be loved. I need to be protected. I need to be nourished. I need to be nurtured. I need warmth. I need caring. I need reassurance. I need help. I need protection.

I need to know that you will not hurt me, wound me, bugger me.

I need love. I need comfort.

Tell me you love me … and mean it, SHOW it!

How?

Rub my arms slowly and softly.

Take deep breaths.

Go slow.

Ask me what I need … BEFORE you go running off, or running off at the mouth.

Remember me … and act like you do.

When you do these thiings, then I can stop being afraid.

I WILL DO these things for you … and, that IS my commitment.

Copyright 2010 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved