My Mistress

"The column came into my life in 1961. And it took it over. A column is more than a demanding mistress. It's a raging master. It consumes you. It's insatiable. It becomes more than you. You are not a person"--- Jim Murray

I dislike what my pen has made me. Yet, I love what it's given me. It gives me freedom, yet I am a slave. It's shown me things about myself. I am what I am. It's helped me unlock secrets. It's my freedom. It's my enemy. It's both a blessing and a curse. It consumes me. It's shown me I have so much more to offer. Versatility. A silent quality. I am a chameleon, blending into my surroundings. I am only able to observe, afraid the unveiling of my presence will lead to my destruction.

For 12 years I walked away. Yet I always heard its call. Like every true love, I return. I believe in my pen more than I believe in you. I pray some days, asking God to remind me that I need Him more than I need It. My pen restricts my tongue. Instead of speaking, I'd rather write. It's challenging. It has strained relationships. Yet through it, It has helped me communicate with special people I never knew existed. It connects me. It has distanced me. My pen has created an entity constructed of complex simplicity. I am just like you. I've witnessed both sides. It's helped me see the darkness in the light, and the light through the darkness. I appreciate and respect both. I channel my emotions through it.

It has given me a dream--one I'm living. It's awarded me with passion. It's my gift. It's why I'm here. It's a necessary evil. It urges me to find balance. It's helped me experience things I only dreamed of. Because of it, I look beyond the surface. I want to see things for what they are. I've found the simple answers within such a puzzling life. It's my art. My creativity. An avenue. I pay attention to detail. Sometimes I write so angry. It gives me a place to vent, sharing the secrets I harbor. It absorbs my pain and uplifts my happiness. It opens a window into my soul, my aspirations and fears. My dreams sneak through my pen and shows people the true me. I am courageous. I am the person my guarded heart won't let you see. It's an heirloom. It's an attraction. It has isolated me. When I have no one, it has me. However, it's the reason why they were not there. I'm excited. I'm afraid. It's the reason why I can't sleep. It's why I have peace of mind. It torments me. It comforts me. I've come so far. I have so far to go.

I dislike like what my pen has made me. Yet, I love what it's given me

Jim Murray died, surrounded by love. His mistress never left him. I can only hope for such a fate.

---EOB.