Quick Note

I don’t think anyone who is creative should have to justify or explain their work, regardless of whether they paint, create music or sculptures, perform, or write. We all do it for different reasons and have different perspectives. We have different intentions, and ideas on how our work should look when it’s finished.

Right now, however, I am feeling the need to defend my right to express my creativity in whatever way I choose, excepting of course, if it is causing another harm. 

The work I share in this space is mostly stream-of-conscious stuff – the words arrive, my fingers type them, I hit ‘publish’. I rarely read it, except to proofread, it is not edited, it is not polished, and it is certainly not intended to be perceived as the work of a professional. If that is the type of writing you are wanting to read, than you are sure to be disappointed by what you find in this space. But I am not going to judge you for your personal tastes and desires, so please don’t judge me for the words that I share here.

Kindness doesn’t cost anything, but it sure feels great for both the giver and receiver, and I would love it if, instead of criticising or putting another person down in future, that you perhaps smile, appreciate they may not have the same perspective as you, recognise they also have thoughts, feelings and dreams, just as you do, and give thanks that an opportunity to discover something about yourself just presented itself.

Have a great day ❤

Breath

Winded by the emotion slamming into my chest, like a semi hitting a brick wall at a hundred mile an hour. Impossible to breathe, and yet I’m not sure I really want to. Will breathing really make a difference? Will it make sense of the irrational? Will it calm the mind long enough to gain focus, get my bearings, or find clarity? Will it prevent thoughts of a delusional, psychotic break? Will it tell me if I’m still connected to reality in any way? Or will asphyxiation bring peace and tranquility?

I Matter

I felt uncomfortable with your assumptions,
With the words you put into my mouth,
And the labels you placed on me.
Don’t think for a moment you know
The depth of my pain, the intensity of my anger,
Or the bewilderment of why.
Sure, you can help me find clarity,
But it should come from my perspective, not yours,
Because I don’t see the world from your experience.
I see it from mine, and as we discussed today,
I matter.

Words

The words are flowing like a river.
Does it matter if they have no structure?
Does it matter if there is no form?
Aren’t the words themselves most important?
To express, relieve, escape, reveal,
Is that not the purpose of words?

Outsider

The decisions I make, may be confusing from the outside,
But they are my decisions.
The battle between head and heart leads in strange directions,
Far outside the conformity of social norms.
Alienated by feelings and emotions so foreign and intense,
Creating a loneliness too painful to express.
No one to express it to anyway,
As no one understands, but instinctively pass judgement,
Rubbing salt into the wounds inflicted by the self-flagellation
Of trying to find self-acceptance as an outsider in the world.