Random thought

Fin

Not too long ago I had a conversation with a painter. That painter was telling me about their paintings, obviously, but this wasn't an ordinary conversation about primary colors or muses, or their favorite type of paint brush or brand of easel or type of Art. This painter was telling me about art as a form of escapism. They were telling me about how they associated their art with pain, that whenever they felt upset or frustrated or angry they picked up a paintbrush or pencil and they created. But it got to the point where the only time they created, or painted, or drew or made a picture was when they were in pain. Soon enough, that activity that they loved so much was tainted with negative emotions, they could no longer paint, they could no longer do what they loved, they could no longer create  because they were constantly reliving that feeling of pain.

I'll never title myself as an artist but I had a similar form of escapism. I wrote. Call it coincidence but the times that I wrote the most were when I was escaping from you. You are not the sole reason why I write, you aren't the reason I started writing, but, you became a part of my writing. What I mean by that is every time I wrote whether I knew it then or not I was writing about you. When I was upset, and I wrote a story and soon that story became about me and you. When I was sad or when I felt betrayed or lonely and I wrote a poem the characters didn't have my name and they didn't have your name but they were in every other sense about me and you. Recently I essentially poured my heart out, and I did it in the only way that I knew and that was in writing. But, stupid me became a victim of basic conditioning. I wrote about you and the way that you made me feel, I wrote about the way you looked, I wrote about the emotions I felt about you, it was all about you. I was so ready to give you all of me and I was so eager to make you all of me that I let my art, my stories, my poems, my writing, I allowed it to be all about you. And much like that painter friend of mine who every time they painted they became upset, every time I write I feel every emotion that I tried to forget, that I tried to escape from
I relive it, re-experience everything that I tried to forget. Every story I wrote had a girl with brown hair and brown eyes with a voice like honey and a personality that was inescapable, intoxicating.

Now, I only now, like just this moment now, realized this. I was rereading that message that I wrote to you when I served myself on a silver platter and handed it to you with no remorse whatsoever, I thought to myself why the fuck did I do that, but I didn't realize that I was helping myself and I haven't done that in a while. The way I helped myself, was when I wrote everything down and I sent it to you and I faced that rejection it showed me so much about myself that I didn't know because I was so blinded by you.

I came to the realization that I cannot continue to call myself a writer who only knows how to write about the pain, and I cannot continue to write about the same girl with brown hair and brown eyes with a voice like honey. I can't keep acquainting the pain with my creativity, I cannot do that to myself. If I want to pursue anything in the field of writing I have to separate the pain that you caused and the pain that I caused when putting myself aside when making decisions about how to pursue you. I cannot call myself a writer if my only inspiration is you. I cannot let my creativity, my writing be watered down to a form of escapism.

I cannot let myself be thrown into a pit of sadness every time I pick up a pen or go to type something on my keyboard. I cannot. When I was younger, when we first started talking, I didn't realize how deeply rooted my emotions were in you. It's almost embarrassing how infatuated I was, and rereading those poems, those stories, those open letters I watched my younger self betray their mind and their creativity. I watch my younger self throw all of that away because they wanted to write about you.

Now I can't guarantee you that this makes any sense. But to put it simply: No more writing. Not forever, only until I can stop associating pain with my writing, only until I can pick up a pencil or type something in my notes that doesn't resemble that pretty girl with brown hair and brown eyes with a voice like honey

Knowing you, you'll take this personally. You won't tell me but I've gotten pretty good at filling in the blanks.

I can't write anymore. I can't write anymore because everytime I write I think of you and I end up writing about you when I intended to write something totally different. 5 years ago you would have never guessed the impact you would have made on my life, and I would have never guessed that I'd be so easily impacted by your role in mine but I'm grateful. And I do not want you to think that I'm upset or mad at you, maybe I am a little disappointed.

You're probably thinking: 'well then I'll just go, I'll leave and let you continue writing. f you will write when I'm gone then I'll leave' but I want you to know that if I wanted you to go I would have told you to leave and I would have let you know that if I wanted to write I would.

Writing is about creativity writing is about using syntax to put your emotions into words however you shouldn't only write when you're upset or sad because everything you write will be about that sad or upset emotion and I can't continue to do that to myself I cannot continue to stunt my growth as a writer. Just like my painter friend can't just color or paint and blues and grays.

To my readers: though they're few of you, I hate to disappoint a single one of you. But, I will no longer be continuing this story. I fell in love and I lost the independence and uniqueness that used to be in my writing, believe it or not there are so many other things I wish I could have put on paper. I have a whole story idea and I haven't written passed a chapter. So, in order to progress, in order to grow as a writer I need to take a break, take a step back, I need to remember why I write and remember that writing is not always a form of escape. The purpose of writing isn't to "forget" about that one time you were sad years ago and you wrote how you felt on a piece of paper and you crumpled it up and threw it away. Writing isn't like that, writing can be analytical, writing can be creative, writing could be critical, factual, playful and funny or satirical. Writing does not have to be about that one girl you fell in love with with brown hair and brown eyes with a voice that sounds like honey. That is not what my writing is about and that is not what my writing will continue to be about so in order to find myself as a writer I have to find myself as someone who isn't in love with that pretty girl, I have to remember what I looked like without her, I have to remember what I look like when I'm passionate about anything other than her. And in order to do so I have to drop everything and stop doing what I love so much and find myself again. So I apologize to you as my audience but remember this isn't a goodbye it's a see you later.

Thank you ♡