Brush Strokes

I have been having various emotional experiences yet not been able to put them into words. Sometimes I wonder what is more oxygenating to me; reading or writing. I read mostly to reach to those hidden emotions where once reached, I don’t want to come back to reality at all. The fiction becomes a bridge to travel to the reality within me. I see reality but only perceive it when fiction intoxicates me.

About writing
For me, writing is rarer yet more permanent. When you lift the pen, you don’t merely put thoughts on paper, you churn yourself, for all the emotional imbalances. Inevitably, words only come out when you want to create a balance out of an unbalanced situation within you. When I write I feel more close to my inhibitions, more concerned about my fears.

Poetry
Writing poetry is another difficult experience to bear. Like someone said, “as a writer you have a whip which could only be used for self-flagellation”. But the fruits are so enriching that you want to go through the pain and fire to see the end.
A full-blooded poem is a journey to a road less travelled (to use the cliché). Once you embark on that inner journey within, the road gets wider and you get lonelier. The absolute solitude of those moments of thoughts sets a rhythm in you which few people experience. Those who claim to have had a ride on this inner rhythm are gifted.

Why say it out?
Why a few things cannot be left unsaid? Why does human heart seek satisfaction by opening out an emotional secret? I see that many story tellers create situations and circumstances where people move towards that center point of utter revelation. And worse when others around them seem to be questionably interested as if the whole set up was meant only for that one moment when the character will speak her heart out. When the emotion was inside the character somehow the audiences were carrying the burden too and when it is blurted out, the audiences feel unburdened. This drains them out and emptiness follows. You almost feel cheated. Things should be left unsaid when there is no particular motive to reveal them. If it is not a narrative necessity, don’t speak out.