Write About a Longing
Prompt: Write about a longing
(from A Writer’s Book of Days by Judy Reeves)
(hand written on 3/13/2011)
I’m longing for myself. I long to know myself. I long for meaning. For the days that stretch into nothingness to have some meaning. A life like mine that will someday end. I long to be remembered. My longing is always there beneath the surface. It is unquenchable. It’s a longing for experience, for life. I long for understanding and kindness from others. Some longings I have satisfied, like the longing for passion and a love life and a place of my own.
I long for solitude, to get back in touch with my creative side. To see the beauty in things again even though now I have the mundane tasks of cleaning and laundry and taking out the garbage. I long to find a way to express myself. To let out that still, constant voice in my mind. I long to connect with people, to form strong bonds of friendship, to see and stretch beyond my own imagined limits.
I want more days like today, of freedom, exploration, independence and joy. I long to be something more than I am. Someone who makes a contribution to society, I have a longing to take action instead of always thinking, wishing and over-analyzing. I want the complete freedom and space to be myself, without apology, without holding back. I long for going to different places, breaking the routine and experiencing life anew.
I long for the space and the time to always be creating, even when I have to be doing something else like working, or taking care of my place. I long to be a person that I can be proud of, someone not content to hide in the shadows but longing to stand out apart from the crowd. This prompt asked me to write about a longing, but in following it I find that I have many, as I suppose all human beings do.
Not one of us is fully satisfied. Maybe some are complacent, but even they must have hidden desires of the heart. My main longing is for myself. For me to fully embrace who I am, my personality, my freedom and options and independence. My other longing is for work with meaning. It can be hard to face one’s self, with all our faults, but doing so is the only way in which to grow. And maybe no one else will ever truly understand me, but through writing maybe I can finally and fully understand myself.
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