This I Knead

 I'm allergic to nuts. What does that have to do with the picture or the title, or even bread as a whole? I don't know; well, I didn't know when I chose to use that simple sentence to lead in to this blog post but I hope I'll make some sense very soon. It's been a ridiculous span of time since I posted anything, and that's not because I haven't been writing (on the contrary, I just finished producing a short play festival that I am really quite proud of.) I've been away because I lost focus of the reason I started this blog. I need this as a space to create and hash out literary conquests and dilemmas. My dilemma, that I am faced with now, is being a parcel. I'm allergic to nuts. Gone from being a cog in the machine a part, now I sit apart fallen like a nickel through an aperture  a cast iron grid a fake smile a passing hello.  Gone from being a cog in a machine operating in/outside of my own will feeling yet filling a space

  Fear. This one word has come to craft a space for itself in my life as a constant theme. I don't know why I am now afraid at the age of 26. I think it might have something to do with the fact that though I may tell myself that I am Okay without responsibilities and the normative expectations of success, I am going against the grain and I do not want to fail. I do not want to be that example of "that's what happens when you try things that we are not used to." 2014 has been a great year so far and so many wonderful things are coming my way. I am happy that I get to do so much but the worry comes in knowing that I am not selling ideas but crafting realities. So here I sit with an oxidised crust. The moistness within fueled by dreams and possibilities is being trapped. I have trapped it in because to be exposed to the elements is to allow yourself to suffer against uncontrollable things. If you could just stay within, stay within the bounds of dried up