They’ve told me to bleed if I want to write well.
They’ve told me that whatever truth I have, must be said loudly.
How do I feel about that?
I used to think that it was like getting undressed in front of a crowd of people, waiting for them to decide whether my body corresponds to their requirements or not.
Now it simply doesn’t matter. Not everyone’s nakedness will be alike to mine.
I stare at a black page.
There are millions of mixed emotions running through me making me feel like I was hit by a train.
They feel like lightning, in a palette of colors, making me think I should just go back to sleep so I think no longer.
I tried that but they seem to never leave, only becoming intense so, I decided to resist them no more.
Resistance to any bad situation makes the situation worse.
I just let them go through me and hurt me till I cry and cry till I can cry no more. I try to live everything as it arrives to me, without judging that feeling or taking it through the filter of my previous experiences. I can cry in public, on the shoulder of my friends, crouched in corners of my house, under the shower, while cooking, etc.
If you think that is bad, then you are mistaken. If you think that I am fragile or flawed because I express emotions instead of shoving them in, then know that weaker are those who try to look always mighty.
Who am I fooling? Don’t I know that no one really gives a damn about the way I express myself? At the end of the day, everyone goes to his family or empty bed, having as a last thought before sleep, something that is solely related to their life.
Why is that OK? Because I find comfort in the thought that I can be as good or as bad as I want to, fall into ridiculous situations, make the worst decisions, or sabotage my reputation but I could still be all frisky and fiery- I am just a human in a process of learning and however I react to life, matters most to me and less to others.
I know that there will be judgmental stares but they’ll all end up turning their eyes to their own story.
In certain situations, the fear that accompanies me is fueled by the thought that some may perceive me as inappropriate.
Well, I say to myself: Get over it! You are not that important!
I used to feel self-pity and think that I don’t deserve to go through painful events nor be misunderstood or be the target of bad-mouthing but the truth is … maybe I do deserve it. How will I know that I don’t and who am I to say who should experience what?
I live them as I live all my days of joy, trying to embrace the thought that life is a blend of delightful and wretched moments.
My attitude is the one that can make the whole process easier while bringing glimpses of light over my most mournful nights.
I wondered often: “Is it the right thing to do?”
I knew the answer but I was, somehow, feeling crushed under the heaviness of voices that might interfere. Well, not anymore.:)
I now live according to my thoughts and desires, praying for omens to guide me to the right places, and looking for touches of hope everywhere.
What about you? What keeps you away from doing wonders?