Spectacle

By Unsplash.com

Let me preface all of this by saying that the poem I wrote below is pretty dark. (If you’re especially sensitive, don’t read it.) I’m HAPPY and FINE at the moment, but the words below and the ideas behind them are mine.

I was thinking last night about how some of the most effective artists are tortured human beings grappling with darkness in their personal lives. On one hand, there’s something cathartic about self-expression, exposing past traumas, and releasing things out into the world. The creative process can heal. But not for everyone. There are also those who are open about their struggle, relive their past traumas, but never rise above them. Their darkness gets the better of them... Chester Bennington from Linkin Park immediately jumps into my memory.

In terms of things I create.... I know that I’m sometimes drawn to explore my own darkness. I rip myself apart for you to see. Always with the lingering fear that I am being #TooMuch. But also with the knowledge that this #TooMuch is precisely what’s drawing you in and grabbing your attention. But is it all at my expense? Or am I gaining something, enough, through my creative process? Does sharing bits and pieces of my story weaken or strengthen me? These are questions I’m still working on finding answers to.

Here’s the poem:
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Spectacle

Must I bleed my art for it to carry any weight?
Must I fall apart for you to understand?
Do you ever understand?
Or do you just pretend?
Is there anything between us other than air?

Are we even in the same room?
The same building?
Town? Country? World? Universe?
Do we even speak the same languages?

Does my brokenness speak to you?
But do you think less of me because of it?
Should this concern me?
Is this something I have any control over?

Are you even listening?
Do you ever listen?
Are you enjoying the show?
Do you find me amusing?
Would you like for me to bleed some more?