I haven’t touched this blog in four months. Sometime around July, I put all my journals in storage, stopped updating this blog, and even stopped writing poetry altogether. It’s strange how something I used to be so in love with has become something that rarely crosses my mind anymore.
I don’t have an explanation for this. A major depressive episode, maybe. Loss of inspiration. Loss of creativity.
I wish I could spin worlds with my words the way I used to. I don’t want to be that girl who had a talent and lost it. I’ve been writing since I was five. This is all I know.
So here I am; it’s a little after one in the morning, and today I’ve had a sudden urge to write again. For months I felt so trapped in my head that to pour it all out felt like reopening a poorly bandaged wound. I don’t want this to be another cliched “my heart is broken” post, because I think I’m healing. I will start writing again. Even though my head is telling me that it’s pointless, that I’m useless and my words are burnt ashes, I’ll still try. I think that’s a step towards recovery.
“It’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s life.”
Ever since I was eight years old and obsessed with gymnastics, I can’t remember a time I wasn’t in love with this song. Released in 1997 by English artist Richard Ashcroft, Bittersweet gained instant popularity and critique, altogether. The rights to the song were taken by Allen Klein due to supposed copying of a Rolling Stones melody. Despite itself, though, The Verve is almost ethereal to me. I don’t know too many songs by them but this is definitely my go-to when I’m feeling low. It’s one of the reasons I have such a strong desire now to learn cello (if only I had the patience).
This past week has been so draining that I haven’t been able to write anything. I open my journal, which usually gives me inspiration to write just from the elegance of it, and find myself hating my poetry. I’m in an advanced creative writing class, so writing and reading poetry to the best of my ability is paramount. The other day, just for the fun of it, I decided to read a poem of mine to the class (title: Holland, 1945, after a Neutral Milk Hotel song of the same name), and as I was writing the poem I saw no issues with it. After reading, however, I felt like burning everything I’d ever written. I felt like I had to decorate my poetry in flowery writing so people would think it’s “pretty,” rather than use the raw and somewhat uncomfortable words I’d used in the poem (it’s about Anne Frank, for heaven’s sake). Logically I know this is wrong. I’m generally just in a funk I don’t know how to break out of.
I needed comfort, so I listened to this song for maybe the thousandth time. I let the melody shine and cleanse my mind like the song said, and I slowly started to feel better. Music is wildly important in my life, and I’m so, so glad songs like these exist.