Writing is a pure art

I will write my way into another life – Ann Patchett

I am not much of a writer, moreover I would say that I simply try to put those horrible passions and thoughts in my mind into words. It gives me peace and contorts the horrible reality. It paints me a totally different picture about life and drives my crazy mind to an unkown place, like Wonderland. I suddenly feel like I am not alone. Some of you might probably not understand this kind of passion. Why is it good to write my thoughts down when I could say them? But who would listen to my speech? Who would visit a painter who talkes about his paintings instead of showing them? Who would listen to a singer who talkes about his songs instead of singing them? Let me describe the awful answer: No one. There wouldn’t be a single person who would waste time on such things like these.

How words transform into lines, then the lines transform into pharagraphs and at the end a very special thing come alive. A poem. Someone’s honest, repressed thoughts finally described in words. There are so many possibilites to write about. Sickness, sadness, happiness or even a simple step, a gesture. It eternalize a moment just like a camera. But in a normal picture, everyone see the same exact thing. Conversely, in an art everyone see something different. Diverse stories, sundry worlds. A few thoughts can give such a special view of the moment that non of a picture can.

It is even hard to describe how others rhymes, poems, novels, lines touch my heart and goes into the bottom of my soul. How it mix my feelings and and give me so much inspiration and motivation. I feel every single word of it. Will I ever be able to affect others like this? Is there any chance that someday someone will notice my writings and say “you give me motivation”? Is there anyone who will be thankful for me one day? Whether there will be someone who look up at me and create such things like I do?

Well, probably most of you find my words too complicated or even pointless. Some of you might not understand how much this passion means to me. But one day if you really want, you will be able to see with my eyes. Sit down with a book in your hands. With an old-styled, honest book of poetry. Open it and start to read. I am sure that after a few lines it will capture your heart and will bring you so many emotioms that you never thought you can actually feel them. This is what art is like. Epic and unpredictable. You can’t believe how it affects you until it happens to you. But do you know when will you be brave enough? If you not just read others stories but write down your own. When you create a pure art.

It is a valuable thing to admire others poetry. Like in a theatre during a touching performance you cry and laugh with the actors. It really is a honorable stuff that can improve your personality but there is something that worths much more. Be brave enough to start! Procreate writings! Leave your fears behind, play with your thoughts and put them into words in the most honest way. This is how you can truly understand this passion, when you actually take a part of it. Share your stories with others and touch their hearts and souls.