you can tell what a writer values based on her themes. what she holds on to, what she lets run free, her deepest desires, her darkest secrets. it isn’t about what she writes on the surface, it’s about the tone. her themes are what she considers the focal point of her existence, whether big or small, it’s representational. it’s easy for a sad poet to write about depression. it takes courage for a writer to realize there’s more to her writing and her own life than her sadness. that there is meaning outside who she’s been, that there is substance beyond the pain.
writers are always trying to romanticize the ugliness of the world, unable to realize that for every moment they dip in glorifying negativity, they lose a moment of recognizing positivity. they live in so much pain that they have confused it for beauty. but pain is not beauty. there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling pain, until they create a reality where all they see is sadness. it’s unhealthy the way people hold onto their sadness as if that’s all they have. you can’t trust sadness. you can’t make sadness your best friend, because it’s too loyal. that’s the problem with sadness, you need to walk away from it. people try to tell me their best artwork comes from struggle, that they are empty without it. it becomes hazardous at that level, because yes, amazing work can come from struggle, but amazing work can also sprout elsewhere. artists depend on their sadness and let it fuel them. it becomes an addiction, it’s true.
but true beauty is not spiteful, frustrated, hopeless, judgmental. true beauty is light, forgiving, accepting, loving, free. for all the writers out there who think pain makes their existence worthwhile, i want to hug you slowly, and aggressively, until you realize that you are only suffering as much as you tell yourself.
it’s hardest to hear, that the way we prolong suffering is indeed a choice and not an act of the world dooming us with bad luck. in order to create good memories, to be surrounded by people who accept you for who you are, to love life, and to have passion, one must actively search for it. is living in the past and holding onto hurt, but a lack of movement in some areas of our lives? there is a world of possibility out there, but it does not begin with someone else doing it for you, it does not continue with holding onto the past, and it most certainly does not mean holding a dim view of the future. it comes from the simple act that you believe you are worthy of value. true value. wanting to give yourself the life you deserve. people are so confused by the act of self-worth that the only kind we have prevents us from appreciating ourselves.
i want to tell you this. you are not a wilting flower in a harsh winter, you are a caterpillar waiting to become a butterfly. but one has to leave its cocoon, its comfort zone, to embrace its potential. one has to want to see what the world has to offer. but no one can make you transform into a butterfly, no one can make you realize that you are a butterfly. but you, you can already fly. you have the wings for it. and so, when is a better time to lift off, than now?
you have to realize butterflies are not meant to be trapped in cocoons. cocoons are not homes. but when you hide there, no one can see your beauty that way, especially you. you have to know that you can be beautiful without having broken wings. we can’t always write about the winters we barely survive, because there’s always spring. there’s always room in the journal to write about how you can soar, about how you will.
you don’t want to be remembered for your pain, and you may tell me that’s not what you want to be remembered for, but we always write what we can’t forget until it becomes us. please, instead, want to remembered by how you overcame the pain. when you heal yourself, your story is always remembered. it’s always remembered, because healing is contagious, and your courage will inspire others to heal themselves. create a revolution.