My name means light – the first rays of the sun that fall onto the earth when it’s dawn. I love my name and the meaning it holds. What bothers me though is that I feel I’ve ran out of this light. I don’t see it as often in my life, and I think it’s too dim to make a difference in the lives of others.
Excuse the tone of this piece, but today I feel like I’m drenched in a bucket full of melancholy. My uterus is bleeding, I’ve gone through all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, I’ve counted each person I’ve let down and each time I tried to do something with these feelings but ended up opening doors of rejection instead.
It hasn’t been the most positive day, even though I laughed at every joke, smiled during every phone call and tried my best to be patient with each obstacle that came in my way. Honestly, all I wanted to do was sit down and cry. But that didn’t happen because I couldn’t.
I don’t mean for this piece to sound depressing, but maybe this time it’s an article for me rather than an article for all of you. Yet, if you find yourselves in this piece and feel that you’re being heard, that would be nice too.
I don’t know if you’re interested in knowing, but how I’m trying to deal with these emotions is by letting myself feel them. My best friend tells me it works and I trust him with my all, so I’m trying to do the best I can. I wish I hadn’t let him down, I wish I never let him down.
I wish for a lot of things, but what I really want is to be able to live up to the light that this name has. And I can’t do it if I run out of it all.
This piece is perhaps a monologue that may just be a mediocre stream of consciousness that flows in and out of the cracks that have made me who I am. And in my attempt to desperately fill these cracks, I feel myself crumble and fall quite often. However, that’s not how you heal. You heal by coming face to face with yourself, by consciously making that effort to put yourself back together. It’s slow and it’s hard but that’s just how it is meant to be.
This romanticization of the ‘troubled genius’ is something we need to let go of. No, it’s not okay to suffer – it doesn’t look cool. You’re not supposed to suffer to make good art. In fact, the clearer your mind, the better the art. While, writing takes away the pain for a while, it is nothing but a bandaid to numb the real thing. The real pain can go away only when we decide that it’s time for it to go.
I apologize too often, so here’s another one. I’m sorry for this piece to not make much sense, I’m sorry if it sounds like incoherent murmurs that you hear from a distance and I’m sorry that I have no solution – I’m looking for one too.