I just cried. I wrote this story about a man's death. After his death and three thousand words I realized that I was really invested in the character. This is the first time this has happened to me. Normally I can separate my emotions form what I'm writing. I might have been because I could so easy place where this happened. It was easy because it was right next door. I have sat right next to it smoking many times.
Honestly, I can't remember the last time I cried. This time, even, the tears weren't rushing out of me. It was a whimper. It was not a conscious decision but usually that is never the case. When I think about it know this true expression of emotions seems strange to me. You leak liquid, your breathing changes dramatically.
I don't know why I decided to share this with you but i didn't write here yesterday and since most of you who read this do so to see my state of mind I thought i would give you a gem. I am not grief stricken, it was just something that grabbed hold of me and I determined not to fight. It wasn't rewarding like when you cry a worthy cry and when you are finished you know something has changed. This was just a shock to me. I feel like more of an artist. Even if this story is never read by anyone else I know it has deeply touched one person.
Viva la ars!