Nowadays, I just can’t seem to get my thoughts down on paper. My mind is on constant over-drive, teetering back and forth between emotions. It’s been quite a while that I last wrote something I can say I was proud of.
I learned something crucial about writing so far: happiness is the most difficult emotion to express. Seriously.
In the past, depression/sadness/vent/guilt were always the catalyst of all my writing. In the midst of misery and anguish, somehow the words seemed to flow in streams of recherché, refined and defined emotions so unbearably painful that an ocean full of words tumble onto paper like a huge destructible wave. Writing was a way to escape the turbulence and confusion, a way to sort out feelings and manipulate them in a way that satisfied me. And up to that point, writing had been satisfactory.
But now… I’m too happy for words. Don’t get me wrong though, I have my sad days. Sometimes they come more often than completely not. But this time around, I don’t need to write to escape the sadness.. I prefer escaping into him. He becomes the happy world I can only dream of writing about.
Happiness becomes an all together incommunicable thing, expressed only by experience.
I learned something crucial about writing so far: happiness is the most difficult emotion to express. Seriously.
In the past, depression/sadness/vent/guilt were always the catalyst of all my writing. In the midst of misery and anguish, somehow the words seemed to flow in streams of recherché, refined and defined emotions so unbearably painful that an ocean full of words tumble onto paper like a huge destructible wave. Writing was a way to escape the turbulence and confusion, a way to sort out feelings and manipulate them in a way that satisfied me. And up to that point, writing had been satisfactory.
But now… I’m too happy for words. Don’t get me wrong though, I have my sad days. Sometimes they come more often than completely not. But this time around, I don’t need to write to escape the sadness.. I prefer escaping into him. He becomes the happy world I can only dream of writing about.
Happiness becomes an all together incommunicable thing, expressed only by experience.
