I’m struggling a little bit tonight. When I struggle I write. This has been a really supportive place for me. I deleted all other social media. I really wanted to share and get some feedback. If anyone else likes to write please post. I’m not very good and my vocabulary limited. Critical feedback of the writing is welcomed and appreciated.
As I walk alone on the beach my mind begins to wonder. The moon hangs in the sky providing the only light that reflects off the glistening water. It's been almost a year, since… I can hardly make myself remember. The memory comes with such shame and pain, but nothing has changed. The darkness still comes to me just like the tides washing ashore. Fading and growing, but ever constant, and With it bringing a familiar call from the deep. The call is peaceful and calming. Singing to me songs of promises and comforts. But I know I mustn't listen, for once the call is heard it isn't so easily forgotten. I stand staring into the darkness, trying to pull away. I close my eyes. I must keep it in. I can't feel, I can't…break. WHEN DOES IT IN!! I yell. The sudden noise splits through the silence, and with it comes awareness. Awareness of my loneliness, my mistakes, my lack of meaning. My eyes sting with tears. The Rush of emotion is too much. I thought I was okay. I am grown now why am I still like this? What's wrong with me? My thoughts and tears overtake me as I sink down in the sand. I looked up at the moon as it hangs there all alone in the dark, and ask when does it in
Thank you for sharing. I write. I write allot. Almost all the the time. Its rarely an intellectual approach. My heart flows through the end of the pen, or my finger tips when I type… Its like the insides come out, but the insides are ugly, memories… Shame… Guilt… Remorse… I have a strong feeling that you can relate. But when it comes out… Its reaching and artistic almost. Valuable. And that is a power on its own. Almost like the loner sitting at the art gallery staring for hours at a painting, his sitting alone, the only one there looking into what he prescribed himself for that moment. His own interpretation of a serene moment. And his own definition to what brings him that level of serene. That’s you. The art work on the wall. And the guy sitting in the gallery, looking at the work on the wall… That’s me. Your insides came out, and as it flowed through what ever medium you used to get it there, gave that to me and made ugly into art. Write. Keep writing, don’t stop writing. And expose your art.
Have you heard that Haley Williams and b. O. B track called airplanes… Eminem jumps on the last verse and he starts by saying, “imagine if marshal Mathers never picked up a pen” do you know hip hop? Do u follow its culture…? Well I do…
I can tell you now. If marshel indeed never picked up a pen, I may have commited suicide. He gave me relative stories. Identification and then ambition to carry on. Now flip that. Van Gough…
Thomas Edison, Tupac, the kid down the street. You. Imagine if you never picked up your instrument to express…?
Thank you for sharing your art with me.
It picked up my day.
You just carried love into the world by posting your stuff.
Seriously thank you!! I’ve been struggling the past couple days. Your words were exactly what I needed. I have never considered my writing art. I can’t believe it actually touched someone.
Kid Cudi was that person for me. When I felt the loneliness and as if I’m the only one who has ever felt this way his art and music would make me feel like someone understood.