Losing myself

A few months ago I read an article about the spouses of writers. They all voiced the same complaint. A writer, even when physically present, can be very far away.

A non-writer, I don't think, can understand. How it feels to create families, societies, universes in your mind. How it feels to live in the world of your creation while attempting to navigate life in what others call "the real world." How it feels to successfully string together the right words to convey the meaning.

Writers, when we talk to one another, mention our spouses too. Overwhelmingly, most spouses of writers do not read their loved ones' masterpieces. Rarely, a husband or wife willingly becomes involved in the writer's work. More often, a husband or wife puzzles over the writer's strange behavior.

I feel sorry for someone who does not write and does not understand how it feels to lose yourself in words.