A little something I have been working on.....Time for a critique!!

I have been bouncing around some ideas and thought I would spit ball out a portion of it.   I am looking for genuine feedback about the writing, voice and content.  Here is a sample, so get out those red pens!

Photo by Tara Wasney

Intro -

It has been this way as long as I can remember; its like being wrapped from head to toe in several wool blankets, then being immersed in hot water.   But, to be honest I don’t think this accurately describes it either.   I can’t explain but everything gets warm, every nerve in my body vibrates and becomes sensitive and all my senses pull away to far pin points.  I am telling you every nerve ending on my body feels as if it is being touched and I can’t focus, I can’t hear, I can’t think and I can’t move.   Then I know, life will never be the same again.   I guess you can say that I don’t handle stress that well.

I do have to say that I am sure tired of feeling this way....where to start...oh where is the beginning?

Some days I feel so weary; weary deep down in my bones – all the way to my soul.  It’s as if I have already lived eight separate lifetimes.   But each is so different from the other it is hard to see how they could all be mine.   To be honest, I remember flashes from many parts of my life but then people will tell me stories and I think “really?   are you talking about me?”

Do you remember that scene from the Steven King movie Dream Catcher when you finally get to see inside his mind?   It’s like a huge library filled with giant stacks, filing cabinets and wobbly stacks of boxes, each filled with a sound, taste, smell, memory and information.   You come across one and it can be so vivid and yet you can come across another and think “hey how did this get here?”    The concept of this vault was that there is limited space and there comes a time when you must release old memories to make room for new ones and when he does that he carefully combs through and takes only the most precious back to a secret room where he keeps his most important memories.

I think of my mind this way, especially the overstuffed cabinets and wobbly stacks of boxes.   Some times I really have to dig through a lot of crap to find the memories hidden within.   But then there are those.....oh those super sweet or super terrible memories that have been put aside in the special room.   Those ones you never forget.   Sitting here even now I can smell, taste, see and hear these things.

Let me ask you, You ever have one of those moments (or days) where you curl up inside that place and hold those memories close, gently stroking them?   I do....even the bad ones....some days….especially the bad ones.  I feel that familiar feeling, that warmth.   The terror, the disbelief and the world shifts just a few more inches.