It’s just a blank wall to some.
But I see angels and demons.
I see what is inside of me.

If at any time, I couldn’t get in touch with how I felt, I always knew that I could just stare at a wall. If I saw smiles then I was happy and if I saw frowns then I was sad. It was as straightforward as that.

And in that simplistic way we have of searching for explanations after the event, I find a snippet from an old psychology class that tells me that we project what we feel (onto blank walls).

I wrote those words because I am stuck. Wheels spinning. Mud flying.

The thing is – I’m in a strange place with my writing.

At a crossroads.


Another simplistic explanation anyone?

Okay – I blame it on the Open University Creative Nonfiction module I’m trying to engage with. You see – it involves telling the truth.

It’s not that I have any particular problem with telling the truth. No. It’s more that I prefer to embellish the truth a little. I like to add things on like a man might apply polish to his boots, or a woman might like to add earrings, a necklace, bangles, a belt and a handbag to her outfit.

I like to feel that I’m free to land alien spaceships on my front garden at a time of my choosing. But to write about this would be false.

That, and I’ve been eating too much sugar and chocolate. It’s left me a bit demotivated.

So there you have it – a picture of me right now.

In words.