I’ve never been good at telling happy stories.
Most of the work I’m the proudest of is the work that made me cry when I wrote it. It’s the work that made me hesitate when it came time to publish it. It’s the work that I feared would inspire ‘a talk’ with my parents.
A few weeks ago I wrote down all my sad stories, at least all the big ones. I’ll link them below because why not. I finally grabbed the box thats been sitting in that dark dusty cupboard of my mind and upheaved it’s contents onto a very public online stage. I don’t demand that anybody read my sad stories. I don’t even feel attracted to the idea of recounting them in any circumstance, ever.
I just accept that they are my sad stories, because this right here is my story.
Part of the reason I never dared to write down my pain is because I was scared I would loose my savour. What if when I was no longer sad, I had nothing to write about. What if I danced with my demons so sensually that they no longer felt the need to bother me. I was scared because I didn’t think I could write without the whispers in my ear, from all the bad things.
But then I did write them down. And then in my own quietly stubborn way, I told the stories I had been scared to tell since I was two years old.
And I still write.
I write boldly. Because now, I have nothing to loose. You know all my secrets. My sad stories are still very sad, but they hold no power over me. Because they are laying right there in front of you, butt-to-nut naked, asking you to ‘Paint them like one of your french girls’.
With this nakedness, I stumbled upon a realisation…there is so much more to write about.
I’ve written down my sadness. Thats done. It’s been nailed to a cross on the hill for everyone to look at. It’s still there, but now I’m free to go explore the village.
And what sights there are to see.
I find myself writing about love, lust, courage, kindness, freedom and writing. I find myself longing to sneak away with my computer to a quiet corner of the world and romance my keyboard until we have spun palaces out of paragraphs together.
You don’t have to suffer to create.