Whenever I feel angry or completely hopeless, I’m always in need of an outlet. Talking to someone would be option 1, but that’s not always possible. There’s always those days where you just feel annoyed at everyone, so who can you talk to? I’m starting to realise that writing is that person.
Opening a Word document and throwing all my feelings onto a page is something which helps me figure out what I’m feeling. Just today, I wrote a short piece about my thoughts and ended up realising what I was actually scared of. It’s a great way of sorting out your mind. I’ve done it before of course, I went through a whole series of letters to someone I ended up naming ‘Pal’, and I often look back on them as a way of reflection. Here is one:
So there’s this girl. She has this steadfast dream and a hunger to achieve it. She oozes confidence, with the realisation that she’s good enough. She is completely willing to work hard in order to get to where she wants to be, yet she knows how to balance her life. Her firm grasp of what really matters makes her simply a wonder to be around – boys look at her and see a gem, someone who amazes but still understands. She is completely unique with the understanding that no one could ever really be unique. Her days are filled, yet she doesn’t feel busy or worry about what is next because she knows that you have to enjoy every part of your life. She is happy, and when she cries it’s for a real reason, or empathy for those with a real reason. But let me tell you something about this girl. She doesn’t exist. She is a figment of my imagination, because she is exactly the girl I desire to be. But is a perfect self who I’m supposed to be? Does the lack of strength in some areas simply make me human, or somehow wrong in my psyche? Does being nervous to spend time on my own in public mean something more serious, or is that just an excuse to hide the real problem – I’m human. Just not the human I wish I was. Is it ever really possible to be your ideal self? My ideal comes from films, television and stories, things I hate about myself and things I wish could be. Is that wishful thinking, or are stories really just stories? They must have come from somewhere right? Some people have said I’m naïve, for thinking a perfect me is possible, for seeing the romanticism of life and for trusting people I don’t really know. I just think that’s stupid… since when did everything become so dark?
The pieces you write don’t have to be articulate or novel-worthy, they just have to help you. For a lot of people, anything creative helps. Music, art, dance – they’re all ways of expressing yourself and giving yourself some clarity. And a lot of the time, you can end up with something really beautiful or inspirational. What I’m trying to say is, there are lots of ways you can make yourself feel better without hurting yourself. Like right now for instance. I got angry, wrote a short piece, then ended up writing this. How things change in one day!
And hey, if that doesn’t work, food is always a good option.