Nights are often spent crying…
Over some jilt
Or some spilled milk
Or the failure of a dream foundation of which was strongly built,
Followed by becoming Wilt
And finally retiring to sleep under the warm quilt.
Being an avid reader, I go through a lot of stuff daily. I love to absorb words that clearly describe the vague emotions of its writer. Those musings and snippets inspire me to pen down my random thoughts.
I hear people saying that the voice of a broken heart is the loudest and the one who has a first-hand experience of suffering pain and grief is able to express most impressively. The mindset states that an artist is born out of pain and devastation.
The thoughts that follow in my mind tease me. The questions linger around my subconscious whether I sound fake when I write? Am I less capable? Is it that whatever I bring on the paper is bogus and does not contain the quality of relativity? Is my articulation weak and less effective?
I am not a girl who suffered a pathetic heartbreak,
Nor am I the one who stays awake until the daybreak.
I am not a girl who has faced major setbacks,
My loving kin and friends have always taken my back.
But then why do it appears to me that not having a bad experience( especially in form of a break-up) is something that I lack?
Even I have faced certain shortcomings, slight pangs here or there that does not count much. In fact, all of us go through our own share of a bad phase where we might feel gloomy but you see, life is not just meant to whine and complain.
It is a hard pill to swallow but then why only an exclusive experience of some unfortunate occurrence can only trigger the writer in an individual. Why such preconceived notions?
The truth of the life is that we need not sail through despondency in order to be able to write. The one who masters the art of stepping into the shoes of others and explores their sad experiences through his vivid imagination can also produce a piece worth reading…
And I surmise, this ability needs great courage and sensitivity…