There's a certain sense of achievement when you just sit alone in silence writing - courage maybe? Courage because you have the opportunity to delve deep into the darkest midst's of your mind and turn them into beautiful portraits - romanticising the worst parts somehow. Maybe as writers we emphasise and beautify the memories that haunt us in hope of making them easier to live with. For when you tell yourself something enough, you start to believe it and when there's pieces of paper strewn around the room holding evidence of your truthful lies how could you resist replacing memories with the updated versions. Writers rewrite the endings of their stories in any which way they please. For better, for worse? We will never know. We will never know of the release a certain poen, essay or blog post offers the author for we only know what we're told - what they tell us. That's not to say writers are liars or cowards. I believe writers are the bravest of people - submerging themselves into parts of themselves they wish were forgotten and looking their memories straight in the eye professing they will hurt them no longer. Usually, I find more lessons in my misfortunes when I write about them. I try to see it from all kinds of perspectives and thus enabling to find more hidden diamonds amongst the dirt. Writing is the truest reflection for me, as long as you're brave enough to be vulnerable and open your heart and eyes to the truth.
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