I’ll bleed until I figure it out.

I’ll keep gushing all over these pages like a severed hand that cut a vein, too deep to be mended. It can’t be stopped, the bleeding that pulls at each heart string, aching, aching, aching, for one more story.

As each word stumbles in front of you, I spill my very own guts and glory, the pain that is real, the joy that is cherished.

I’ll bleed until I figure it out.

You see I don’t just come up with these things right off the bat, they are plunged from the very depths of my soul. The parts that seem too dark to be spoken, the light that can’t help but shine through, will come out as I go a little further.

You see, these pages weren’t meant for my own eyes but to be looked upon by those hurting hearts that need a voice; those faces that haven’t seen the sun for days but dare to come out to read just one blurb of nonsense.

I’ll bleed until I fugure it out.

You see, I was made to write, to spill, to plunge, to slash into my soul and let you see the inside. Someone told me once ago that if we could all just hear the story, the story that speaks to us, to let us know we aren’t alone in this spinning world, then maybe we would find we aren’t.

You see, I don’t know what I’m even doing, sometimes the keyboard just takes over and it isn’t my words but His. I take no credit here, but just to be a tunnel.

I’ll bleed until I figure it out.

And if these words do nothing but speak to the ache, then maybe we need to listen more closely. For in each and every voice is a story yet to be written, a life that matters. A human being is precious and we’re all too busy running to see it.

And maybe I’m just another writer that “feels too much” then gosh dang it I’ll feel for all of us, for it might just be that we need a little tug to pull us back to the light.

I’ll bleed until I figure it out.

And when my head just spins, may I stop to let it all out on these pages. Just maybe I’ll stop to see we’re all bleeding too, we’re all human too, we’re all here too.

So don’t stop speaking up, don’t stop feeling, let every word come out in air or in writing and say what needs to be said. For I am convicned that if we stop speaking the world will stop spinning and we’ll lose our breath.


Breathe, bleed, speak.