What do you want to be when you grow up? Its the platinum question that we’re awarded with during those oh so awkward years of high school. Sure, theres a ingenious range of careers that we spitball to anyone and everyone when we’re kids. Firefighter, policeman, rock star, teacher, movie star and even the ever popular, becoming president of the good old USA. Myself, I had aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. I loved fashion and I loved the art of sketching. So naturally I combined the two into an awesome career. Yep, I was going to be a fashion designer when I grew up.
What am I now? I am a writer and published author. I know, total 180* from the fashion world. Its not that fashion no longer interests me or that I’ve lost my love for drawing. My path just turned left instead of right. I have always had a love for writing, more like words in general. For me, words are an extremely powerful weapon. They’re just as sharp as a knife and pack the same punch as a fist to your face. I would even say that words even have the same sting as that of a bullet shot into ones body. However on the flip side, words have the power to numb a hearts pain like morphine, calm the chaos in an overcasted mind like Bayer and even cure an illness of the body like any IV. The outcome of how words will either repair or damage is up to the beholder of them. I’ll admit that I have been both a doctor with words and a hitman. I have also experienced the joyful and painful impact of someone elses lips.
Being someone who grew up not always obtaining the capability to express myself on a verbal level, I have found other alley ways to expose how I’m feeling or what I’m going through. Writing and music. Yep, words either way you dish it up. Whether my keyboard is being typed on or my phone is flowing my selected playlist, I live in a world of words. They are my Novocain… they are my sutures and they are my escape. Words… how do you deal them out? Are you a healer or a hitman? Choose wisely, because once words are launched out into neighboring ears, they can’t be taken back, only forgotten (if the victim chooses to). Loose lips sink ships…. its not just an expression…
Until next blog… Love Derra ❤