I don’t know how to write.  

I mean, I know the English language.  I know how to form letters into words, words into phrases, phrases into sentences.  I know what it all means.

 But I don’t know how it happens.  How do thoughts, perfectly constructed, enter into my consciousness?  

My words just come, in this unexplainable, unpredictable way.  They come in great floods some days.  

Squeezing, spilling, streaming.  

They overwhelm me.  My emotions in tangible form.  

And some days, they trickle.  

Little droplets that never puddle.  

But even on flood days, they never become an ocean.  An entire work.  

Always rivers leading to nowhere.  

I wish they would.  I wish I had the patience.  I wish I had the control.  The stamina.  

But my words, like my emotions, are as of yet uncontrollable.  

And there’s no knowing what will happen next.