Why I Don't Write

I stopped writing for myself and started writing for someone else. Someone that didn't like me anymore and dismissed me. I am a masterless samurai. A ronin. I stupidly whispered vows in the dark to dedicate my self to someone I barely knew and I thought I knew all the way through. But, I want to write. I want to write my stories again. I want to write and rip the cancer of pain and hurt out of my gut. I've found that one year has only taught me that lonliness will only beget lonliness. Pain must be suffered alone and can only be dealt with by further execution of pain. Only hurt can heal hurt. Because when you are in enough pain the old pains become memories and not open wounds.



This last year has taught me that some wounds will never heal. That even while the scars of additional pains cross over long healed on top. The lower wounds still fester with a raw pain. Almost every poem I write, every story I tell is the same retelling of one moment in my life that I felt whole and soothed. Everytime I write it feels like I'm ripping at the stitches. Everytime I give my self a moment to think it's a moment to reflect on the core of my pain. A moment of peace that was taken away. The one sanctuary that I thought I had found.



So, I ask. Should I forsake my vows that I made in the light of the moon? I think I should. Everything says that the vows I made have somehow been removed by my master. She did not want me as a retainer. One year should have taught me that. One year has also taught me that this vow is not so easily broken as saying "I don't want to feel this way anymore.". I was even given a falce hope to focus on. That in three years, two years now... that we would reuinite in the place that we first spoke our vows. And, every time I want to step off this path I think, perhaps I will be rewarded at the end. For being the always respectful retainer.