I’m so used to writing Instagram poetry about how I’m feeling and although it’s risky to really get vulnerable and let people in through your social media outputs, it’s also quite a relief. You see, the thing about social media, is that once people feel like they’ve been given intel on your life, they think that suddenly they know what goes on behind closed doors, but they don’t.
1) Don’t filter your feelings out of the fear of what others’ may say
2) If you’re feeling something, it means you’re alive, AND HOW INCREDIBLE IS THAT?
3) Please, be brave.
4) There’s such thing as being somebodies and somebody’s.
A lot of people have asked me how I could do it, just put it all out there without thinking of the consequences. Because someone out there is listening, and someone out there really needed to hear that, and I don’t put a name to my muse for the sake of their identity (and my reputation) (just kidding)
About a month ago I watched this Tumblr video, about the idea of falling for a man at his worst by Lindsay Young and I shared it with almost everyone I knew.
(I recommend it for you all to watch)
Then I found myself watching Poetry Slam videos for 4 hours straight, and realized that if I didn’t stutter every single time I got nervous…I’d do that.
But that’s why there are blogs, and that’s why I’m here.
A year ago I sat in my favourite Coffee shop and created MyCompositionNotebook (a.k.a. this) and it became my place to rant, be comical, and well…be a blog writer. As the year went by I started to use it as a place to talk about things without the use of gifs, and realized that I had a lot to say. A lot that wouldn’t fit on Instagram. (I didn’t think i’d have over 4,600 viewers!!!! thank you)
Lately people have been showing my work so much love, and it keeps me motivated to keep writing for the sake of reaching out to people and telling them (even if it’s in a text edit post) that you should take advantage of every single feeling out there that makes you feel alive. Because we’re human, and because we can start sentences with because.
I remember the game, and I remember how much fun it was in Grade 9 to listen to Taio Cruz’ “Break Your Heart” and laugh about how easy it is to toy with the male race. But at 19, on your walk home at 9pm at night, the dark isn’t scary anymore, it’s the notion of seeing something so clearly, that terrifies you.
I admire the women around me that can express themselves, and that’s why I’ve chosen to follow in their footsteps. To the girl’s that can be somebodies and somebody’s. Friends who express their love of Veganism, Art, and cruelty against animals. Friends that are so passionate about the equality of women, and demanding respect for those who are afraid to ask for it, and the friends of mine that have fallen in love with a man on the other side of the world, and using their writing to inspire young women around them, and most importantly themselves.
I hope that with this, I can do the same.
Disclaimer: This didn’t fit on Instagram, and I wasn’t going to cut it down. Also!!! You don’t have to strain your eyes to read it, so we’re all winning here.
Some nights you don’t know if he’s alive. Sounds morbid, but I can explain.
Most nights you beg him to smile. and sometimes you have to use your hands
To force the muscles on your own.
And once you rest your hands along the bottom of his jaw
You realize how it heavy it feels
Because there’s so much intellect in there, waiting to be set free.
He needs shelter, but he never sees the light
And you tell him how much you love the idea of a room full of windows
Because the view from your bedroom is a brick wall.
And he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen the sun.
And even though you aren’t made up of chemicals
You were once harmful to him, and for that he was hooked
But once you pumped your heart of all it’s toxins
and tried to get his soul sober, you questioned whether or not it could all be over
And he was afraid because you belonged to no one
And now you’re afraid because he’s become someone
And they write songs about boys like him
And our mothers warn us about drugs, sex, and rock and roll, and for once you don’t listen.
So why waste your time? Some people ask with a confused face and an eye-roll or two
How much time do you have?
Because I have no problem telling you
However please let me know if I’m going to waste your time talking about my time well wasted.
That I’ve seen him at his worst
So I know that there will be a day I’ll see his best
Everything hurtful will be laid to rest
And that’s why I’ve started to say yes when something lights a fire in his eyes
Because anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing right?
And there may be an army of people wanting to talk and take him down
And some things a filter can’t fix
And you sit there standing waiting for the walls to come crumbling down.
“Don’t wait standing”
But when did it become a crime to root for someone because you see a type of potential that comes in sharp megapixels, and to others may have the lowest quality.
So you ask them to take care of themselves, because there’s someone on the other side of the bed that doesn’t want to roll over onto an empty space.
And he may see the world in cynical sense, and you see beauty in everything
but he can still make you feel like you matter.
No ifs, ands or, buts.
Thank you to Sarah, Sydney, Lisa, Bianca, Renee, and Mina for giving this a read and watching me lose myself in my art at 3pm. Thank you to those who also were very loving and supportive of yesterday’s bare-faced photo, that was one of my many acts of bravery for the week, what are some of yours? Join me?
Until next time,