i read somewhere that when Joan Didion fell into a downward spiral following the death of her husband, she healed herself by writing.
that is how i wish to be healed. by writing, or by any form of art which would not only be the perfect friend to pour your soul to, but would also cleanse, purify and lead to creation and rebirth. and this is why i am eternally jealous of writers and artists. among all the occupations in the world, an artist's profession is for me, the most enviable, the most satisfying to the soul.
*******
hello, despair, we meet again. i can no longer count the number of times i've fallen to your clutch these past few years alone. if repeatedly sinking to your realm, crawling back up to artificial normalcy and slipping back to your darkness and back again were to be considered a form of bravery, then i am one of the bravest persons i know in this category. sylvia plath's "Lazarus" comes to mind. I am not as brave as sylvia plath.
*******
many set their definition of bravery within the borders of acquisition and success. being educated on the ways of the world, acquiring skills and tools for the purpose of achievement, enduring suffering often without question, working hard in order for people to applaud them, overcoming obstacles to be successful. successful in the eyes of the world, that for them is bravery.
to be able to live your life without cares, to detach yourself from the trappings and pressures of the world, to do and to BE, impervious of what everyone thinks, that, for me, is bravery.
