Part 3: musings & reflections on this/us
To readers of this blog (and other poets, artists or storytellers of any shape & form),
Do you ever find yourself gravitating towards trite and uninspiring metaphors to retell the same old stories?
Because I do and it’s been bothering me a lot lately.
A quick scroll down my page & you’ll see my obsession with comparing unrequited love, broken friendships and my overthinking mind to oceans, storms and dark starless nights.
On one hand, I know that it’s so important to always tell your own truth and this constant struggle with body image, establishing boundaries and vocalising my feelings to other people has been mine since I was a little girl. That being said, at times, there’s just this nagging voice at the back of my head that this is an excuse for me to be my own worst enabler.
Instead of focusing on living on the present and fulfilling my responsibilities in the real world, I am finding myself losing hours of the day wallowing in self pity (but as soon as I think that, another voice pipes up in my head telling me that I’m being too harsh and sabotaging my opportunities to feel vulnerability).
I feel like the root of the problem is that I haven’t been able to find balance. At one extreme, it feels like I’m picking apart the stitches that hold me together every few days just to see what words will spill out from from the seams and at the other, I am always swallowing words at the tip of my tongue, smiling, and letting strangers trample over my comfort zone because it’s a shortcut to their happiness, you know?
I wonder if my relationship with the online world and poetry is healthy. On one hand, I’m practising my writing skills, finding a community and learning to articulate my feelings but I’m not going to lie about becoming addicted by that hit of online validation and with that comes stress.
I worry about people losing interest. I worry about people disliking my writing. I worry even about compliments about how ‘beautiful’ the tales I spin are. Is it because these little fragments resonate with you, like a puzzle piece that fits the lives of both you and me or if the only reason people pay me a sparing glance is because of our intrinsic curiosity in the morbid, carcass in the middle of the road at night, sort of thing?
Would I still have a space here if I posted less regularly? What if I wrote about happier things?
bear witness as the sunset stains the sky with crimson sex,
do not look away as it blinds you to lesser sights
like you, like me, like us.
the sunset attracts fireflies
that watch over us all night
I suppose this post might come off as a defeat or a victory depending on how you see it. Although I haven’t figured anything out, this confusing feeling I’m exploring here is different from what I usually talk about. At the same time, outside of the online sphere, I’m expanding more into poetry about working and new people I’ve met (focusing on things outside myself) as I’m experiencing more of what life to offer.
Don’t worry, I will never try to change what I write for the sake of changing, it’ll just sound terribly forced as you might have realised from my example above. This mess right here? This is 100% me, and you guys signed up for that (I don’t know why but thank you so much) so that’s what I’ll continue to deliver!
I will however, continue venturing outside of my comfort zone in real life, and gather some more life experience and hopefully my content will mature as I do with a few more mistakes under my belt. I’m sure what I write at thirty-nine will be drastically different from what I’m writing now at nineteen, I can’t wait to compare them in 20 years.
Anyway that is all for now, sorry if this is a bit rant-y and incoherent, it reminds me of the types of posts I would write in my earlier days. Maybe I’ll do more of these, maybe not. I just needed to get it out there. Have a good day everyone!