Day 4: Secret Poet & You Didn't Know It

There's a part of yourself that you choose to share with the world as a creative human. And there's also that secret hidden part that needs to make stuff that's completely unrelated. Sometimes that unrelated stuff sparks some other creative fire you had no idea existed.

Or at least that's how it is with me.

My hidden area is poetry.

Yes, as a depressed fat girl, poetry became a (cliche) way to express myself passionately where I had no other outlet. I had notebooks full of it for years. And a lot of it sucked, sure.

But some of it is really good.

And I have rarely ever shared it.

Maybe that's on purpose. Maybe I don't want the product of that special secret space wherein I cathartically create to be judged harshly.

Because anything you put out there gets judged, ammirite?

But there's a lot that went into that (awkward AF) statement. Special things don't always beg to be shared. Often they just need to be cherished.

And I suppose that's what poetry is to me.

When I was digging into my family history, I found that I was related to a famous poet in Nicaragua, Alfonso Cortes. but although he is celebrated for his metaphysical prose (courses are taught about his stuff... which is amazing), he died chained to the window bars of an asylum.

So, it's not that I'm saying that sharing poetry and crazy are besties, chained to each other in every way. I'm just saying - it's scary to put things out there that might come from a deep, dark place that may or may not belong hidden in an asylum.

In a society where we are asked to constantly share our lives (I don't need to know you're eating waffles - that only makes me super jelly, you guys), it's nice to think some aspects of our myriad of interests are special enough to be clutched close to our souls.

-fin-

- Steph 

[post written on 15 May '16, but not published until 16 May due to religious reasons.]