“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise, what it is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?” – from Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll
I find more and more that I express myself through words or music…poetry, singing, songwriting, writing novels. Writing has been such a huge part of me for so long, it’s strange to think of a time where I wasn’t writing some sort of song, poetry, or stories. So much of what I write has never been read by anyone except for me. My writing is something that’s such a huge window into me and my feelings, I don’t feel like baring my soul to the world through that writing. At least not yet.
When I write stories it helps me so much to deal with whatever I’m feeling or frustrated with…whatever I’m loving or hating…it gives me a way to vent and to express how I’m feeling in a completely safe environment. Some people may interpret this as “insecurity” or “inability to openly address my problems”. I beg to differ. Some people vent by yelling or taking it out on other people. I can’t think of any better way than to transfer my own anger or love to characters of my own creation. If I’m angry, it hurts no one. If I’m happy, it benefits both myself and others, because if I’m happy it doesn’t matter if I take that joy and play it through my stories or to other people. Either way I’m expressing my gladness, and that’s all that matters.
When I write poetry it’s usually when I’m upset. Something about intertwining words and letting them soar together in one beautiful symphony is profoundly comforting. And whenever I look back at my poems, even the ones I wrote when I was 6 or 7, I can still distinctly remember exactly what I was feeling or going through when I wrote those verses. Poetry is such a vivid cameo into the human heart, and it somehow sets all of your feelings and secrets free.