I'm guided by the light of being. I am not myself when I write. Like a string-puppet I just let myself go. Words are written, things are left to be said. But what is worth writing and what is worth silenced? What is worth silenced is more than worth writing. But I don't control the pen. Neither do I control the pain. Or even the joy I try to tame.
Writing is not fake. It's not real either. I don't want to be myself when I am writing, while I'm guided by the light of being.