On metaphors and magic.

Some people don't like the whole metaphor thing. Obscuring reality; making stuff all poetic and flowery. As a writer, I think in metaphors. Sometimes lines just come to me. I can't help it. I wake up during the night with a magical line ringing in my head, and I instinctively reach out to my phone and plug in the line to my notes page.

Sometimes, I look back on my notes and find fragments of lines hanging all over the place, waiting to be cleaned up and posted on a blog. 

Some people try to hide themselves from everyone, including themselves, simply through avoiding the truth. 

Shut. Your. Mouth.

Easy answer. 

I find that the longer I hold onto my words, the more likely they are going to explode in the wrong places. So I have found a way. Through metaphors. Nobody can enter your metaphors fully. They can only interpret them with their own contextual knowledge guiding them. So it's no wonder that my favourite stories I've ever written can only be correctly interpreted by one person: me. It gives me great power to know that I am the only holder of the truth. 

Some people gain power through risk taking, drinking, drugs, sex. I find my power through words. 

It might seem strange, someone like me, talking about secrets and obscurities: power through metaphor and symbolism. But I know the truth. My secrets lie deep inside me. Nobody will get inside me. Nobody will ever know who I truly am.