Wondering in Ink

Hello, you don’t know me, but you’ve might have seen me in your town. If not me, then someone quite like me. Maybe you are just like me or close enough to understand. I guess you’ll find out as you read my words and wonder along with me.

You see, I am a wanderer and wonderer. I’ve wondered more than I’ve wandered, but I’ve done a fair bit of wandering. I’ve met people from all walks of life. But I’ve also spent a fair bit of time trapped in my own body and mind.

What broke me free of untold suffering wasn’t external compassion or kindness. No, what set me free was my own sense of wonder and beautiful words spread across pages with ink. When I couldn’t sing nor scream, I wrote. When I couldn’t hear nor speak, I read instead.

Yet again, I am reaching for words, but not to hide safely within them. No, I love words too much to hide them deep within myself anymore. I’ll tell my story. And maybe someone will read it and whisper to themselves: “I’ll tell my story too.”