Petrified wood 

If i were to write a book, where would I start? My earliest memory? I have a couple of those. 
But which one came first? No, I won’t start there.

So then, where? Maybe this can be my start.

It’s 3 am and I decided to blog on the meaning of it all and stopped blogging when I found myself reading about nihilism. My college days are long over!

Well, truth be told the baby pulled me out of that mess, thankfully. For a belief in nothing it’s sure annoying.

   From the time I could hold a pencil I saw the power of silent words. Words that I could do anything with. They could be thrown away and be lost forever, burned as if to exact revenge, or be shown. It is the latter that I held on to like a door I could one day walk through.

I held my silent words close for a very long time; collecting spirals and diaries in a now vintage kids suitcase. My memories fade, even the pencil lead on my first diary is faded, but the words remain; like a tree turned to stone.

Yes, this will be where I start. With the blog entry that I will not complete but it is the one that journeys the life of one tree. A tree that may have been a giant, like a red wood, or as graceful as a weeping willow if it had been allowed to grow. Instead, this tree was cut down too soon to be sanded and sharpened into pencils, paper, furniture etc.

Wood will warp and break but stone can be chiseled. Petrified. I don’t want the tree to rot away and die and I sure as hell won’t let carpenters throw away scraps because they made a mistake.

So, I want to be like petrified wood. Sealing my past in stone so I can bring forth new growth.

  Friday, March 31st, 2:25 am:

” It’s times like these I wish I had a keyboard instead of typing this up on my phone; but some things need to be said regardless of the means used to get it out.

By posting what I write on this blog instead of saving to just delete later I feel like what is inside me is being sent out somewhere. There’s healing in allowing myself to believe hell has a point, that my suffering is not in vain.

Even the hell in the bible has a point. So, my hell does too, except I’m not dead and when I do die, I won’t end up in hell.

Nihilism is a dangerous propaganda that started as a thought and was thrown into the world to sow seeds. What is funny to me is even the belief in nothing has a point; nothing!”

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