I write a lot. Not novels or poems. I write a lot for myself. When I am drunk, when I am stressed, when I am lost in my own thoughts and need to attempt to figure them out. I then convert them into songs. Not necessarily because they would be great songs or the words I put together are something I would like to share. I do it because it gives me time to process what has passed through my mind. It gives me time to reflect on and question my emotions. Why did I choose those specific words to express my feelings? A lot of the time it is just because they sound fancy and nice together. Other times they actually have a purpose.

Although, in the end, the songs I write hardly ever end up being about myself. They start off with a personal story and my own emotions but I then use those elements to create a new narrative. One that might exist in someone else’s brain.

It makes me excited and curious to imagine how my own feelings and experiences could be perceived in another humans mind. I like making these stories up. It allows me to be creative and share feelings without baring too much of myself.

The majority of my life, writing has been something personal, intimate and private. These last couple of weeks have been anything but that. I am struggling to adjust and let people in and share what goes on in my head. Obviously, this is the place to be when it comes to sharing but it is intimidating and frightening. Exposing your mind and intellect without anything to hide behind. The words you use to express yourself are what people will use to figure out who you are. That will sometimes trip me up. It will keep me from saying something because I am too afraid I will word it in a strange way and I will be misunderstood.

Your words are all you have to express yourself. Sure you can draw and paint and create incredible things, but you can’t go on a date and bring your 4-foot canvas with you to show how in touch with your emotions you really are. Or take that incredible

30kg statue of a vagina you made to the pub just in case you get caught in one of the classic discussions about women’s rights. We all need our words.

Holly Thomas, one of the extraordinary people I have met at SCA shared a quote with me earlier this week.

“The important thing is not what they think of me, but what I think of them.” – Queen Victoria

It hit me right in the gut. This will stay with me. I will remind myself of this as often as I can. So should you.

Twyla