Creating Excess
written by: Tessa Weitemeier
@TessaWeitemeier
It’s the process, maybe it’s an excess.
Staring for hours, staying awake at night, sometimes it feels like a fight.
I battle with words, colours, sounds and pictures.
I write fiction and find myself in it.
Lose myself in a labyrinth, disappear for days.
It all happens because of fear.
Because of my driving force, my driving fear.
Let it in, let it out, breathe in, breathe out.
Writing for a feeling, my confidence is reeling.
Tell me it’s okay, it’s enough, it’s worth it.
Worth the doubt, the pain, the sleepless nights.
And for God’s sake, worth the fights.
Cannot explain what my fingers do.
Why they hurt you, hurt me and then the paper.
I cut it, scratch on it, rip it into halves.
Glue it together, apologise and shed a tear.
There she is again, the fear.
With every word deeper into the labyrinth.
Closer to the fear and further away at the same time.
These pages are mine.
Wake me up when the tears are gone, the paper dry.
Hold my hand when I look down.
‘Cause I might lose my mind if there’s nothing.
If there’s nothing I created.
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