Cross-Stitch

For some reason I feel like writing. I haven't stumbled upon that reason yet. Hopefully while I transcribe my muddled thoughts I can discover what my subconscious knows that I don't. Has that ever happened to you? There is something you know you need to/should do but you have no idea why. Welcome to my current state of mind.
I miss my High School Creative Writing Class. Mrs. Bean helped me realize I could write. She taught me to trust in my words and to have faith in them.
I love words. By putting together a string of letters organized in clumps with spaces separating them I am able to convey thoughts. I have the ability to evoke emotion from a complete stranger. I believe that through the honesty of our words we can establish a connection with almost anyone. It is however difficult to tear down the wall that we ourselves have built in order to establish an actual connection with others and vice-versa.
That's the scary part about words. Discovering the ones we try so incredibly hard to bury deep within ourselves covered with shallow grins and hollow laughs. Everyone says the biggest thing they value is honesty but how many people actually want to hear how I am doing? How many people actually care enough to listen to my thoughts, opinions or concerns. Not many.
Well the truth is...I don't know.
Half the time I don't know why I am feeling the way I do so I try to cast the blame on my latest emotional earthquake. But that's not fair is it? Why do I find it necessary to keep secrets from myself? I hope to discover this someday. But for now I think I'll just keep writing, I'll just keep blaming the weather that houses in my heart and try to stitch the pieces whole again all the while ignoring the fact that with each stitch I'm causing more damage than good. With every stitch comes a new hole. A new part lost I can never get back. I need to stop sewing.