Tentanda Via

I haven't written in awhile, I always tend not to write when I am enjoying life, sad to say. Though life could be better, I am writing today because honestly I miss it, and want this area in my life to be more apparent. My writing to me is so many things; in ways it is me. It is the portal into the desires of my heart, yet the cherubim that gaurds it. It is the shield that wards away the demons, but also the sword that vanquishes my foes. That being said, with writing being so many things to me, my life seems to cycle around because all these things are not apparent. My heart becomes cold and hard because I do not channel my desires, and with a cold heart I beckon demons, both new and old; in which without writing, I would have no shield to ward them off. With my enemies surrounding me, and my weapon not even drawn, it is not a wonder that I am wounded by that which knows my qualms so well. The battle may not be lost, but to fight without my weapon is to fight long and hard; and to develop many scars along the way. Would I have been vigilant, I could have saved face, in a lot of cases.
But should I remain on the offensive? Should I express myself through writing, only to have it viewed as venting and whining by some, thus it not being heard. One of my fears is to speak and not to be heard. To not have a voice, to feel helpless. I am stuck it feels with two options, to do the former, and to develop these scars; or to talk and to talk and to talk, thus be seen as the one who cries wolf. And just as the story goes, I will be unheard when it shall matter the most. The former has been tried, and been found wanting. Thus shall we try the latter?

"Tentanda Via"

"The way must be tried"
as I know no other.