A piece written during an emotionally tumultuous time. Somehow I feel weird posting stuff like this. I am known for having a bright and cheerful personality, but I am excellent at melancholic writing, a total Downer. I am a apprehensive for posting this since my blog looks quite cheery. I am a cheerful person, except that I really write sad stuff better.
I was reading past pieces I’ve written, it’s quite depressing. Like my Le Love piece last 2009, Like Death Without The Sleeping Part
The sound of a heart breaking isn’t poetic. It is hollow. It is tragic. It calls for rituals – the denial, the shock, the anger, the disappointment, culminating in hopelessness. Just like a shrinking white star slowly collapsing inwardly, with memory drawn from every breath a blow. It’s like death without the sleeping part.
I also read the comments that followed how beautiful and honest they thought it was. I really have no idea why I can project this “inner pain”, I have had my equal share of heartache and loss (as if heartache, loss, and other sad things are equally distributed) but most of the time I can shrug it off.
But in moments of silence, when I am not listening to a song or when my mind is not preoccupied with tasks these words and metaphors – beautiful but sad and haunting beg to be written.
They say that you can be an effective writer if you write what you know, part of me feels doubtful about this statement because if we go by what I have written so far my life must be something Dickens wrote.
I can’t refuse the Muse but I don’t want to make people sad. A friend of mine suggested that maybe my writing doesn’t need to inspire or entertain, maybe my writing can make a person feel that they are not alone, that someone has experienced what they are experiencing and that these emotions are normal. In a way I think she may have a point.
I will continue to write and maybe someday I will write something that brings warmth and happiness.