January 2009 seems to be the month my writing comes alive. I feel so much more motivated to write. It is as if I have more vision, which means I can put more imagery into a piece. Emotions aren't literal things. You can't touch an emotion. Show me someone who has stroked anger or moulded love. There has to be ways of putting an emotion into words but it's so difficult. There's never one word that sums up the way you feel.
I guess the emotion I am exploring in this piece is depression. It's something I have been feeling a lot lately. The only motivation I have, really, is to write. I won't over talk this. I'll just let you read.
I wish there were more words. I wish there was a huge thesaurus with a plethora of new words in it that could some up one feeling concisely.
At the moment, my life is like a broken pencil.
Just imagine that for a second. A plain HB pencil lay across a crisp sheet of freshly printed-paper. It would be such a beautiful sight if the lead weren’t separated from the tip, it would be amazing if the graphite hadn’t smudged the page that was so ready – so eager – to be written on.
This is how I see myself; the potential is there. The pencil is ready and waiting to fill it’s purpose and write or draw something amazing. But there is something holding it back, a profound flaw that blocks any kind of creative growth.
It seems such a simple solution, solving the problem. All that needs to be done is for someone to realise the pencil is broken and sharpen it again. When that happens it’s ready to fulfil its purpose, to create something beautiful.
It’s so easy when the problem is a broken pencil.
But what happens when the problem is a broken person? When it’s not the lead, but the core of someone, the essence of them that is broken? How do you fix that?
It’s not as simple as picking up a sharpener and peeling away layers of wood until a new and shiny point reveals itself. You can’t whittle a person down to something new. So, maybe my life isn’t a broken pencil after all. Maybe it’s something more complex. And the question is and always will remain:
How do I fix me?
Ciao
xx
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