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Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

I made some edits, but this piece is really special to me because I kinda just zoned out and it spilled out onto the page, all 500+ words. Mind blown.

I am an artist and so are you

April 26, 2019


Art is like rain.
We let it splash all over the canvas,
the keyboard,
the page.
We are thunderous cloudy storms, pouring out our overabundance of emotion.

We curl into blankets, soft and safe.
We curl our toes to the eerie whispers in our ears, that try to taint our art.
Nothing could stop me
except for myself,
or what I make myself susceptible to.

I am not the strongest, but my creativity gives me power.
Like a sort of magic.
Unexplainable, because our emotions don't make sense.
That's how they make sense. 

So I curl in my blanket, with my curled toes and sing until the whispers flee, and my mind is cleared.
My doubt and insecurities gone.
I let my storm strike up again.
Hear my thunderous cries!
I scream to you!
But my shouts are not throat ripping,
or gut wrenching.
I sing in a soft melody, or a bright symphony.
Whichever I choose,
And my art is released. 
From pent up inside- about to burst- to a gushing waterfall. 

My art pours itself out, like a thick can of paint being dumped into its container.
I am not the artist, because art is its own living thing.
Thriving, booming, growing.
I am merely the vessel in which it uses.
I am the brush, the paint.
I am everything, because when I pour out my deepest secrets, I can connect with it all metaphorically.
It's all a metaphor.
I become the piece, and the emotions, and the paint all through metaphor.
I can become anything.

Some days you feel like a doorpost.
Dead inside and broken.
Some days you feel like a clock,
time moves by slow, fast, you're getting older and so is what you love.
So is your art.
The longer you look at it, the more you hate it.
Even as you sit and work, you see it come together and it's like falling out of love.
One second it's all you can feel and see and feel, but now,
looking back.
Is this really what I poured out?
You question your ability and talent.

Art isn't always going to be loved.
It isn't always meant to be.
Sometimes, art is you just screaming.
Because art is a reflection of human emotions and thoughts and opinions.
So if you would like to scream, and be a thunderous cloud for a while.
Curl your toes, and grab a blanket, and go right ahead.
Cause sometimes we have to give up our bodies, and let the art use us.
We get so filled up that it demands to be poured out.

And you find yourself sitting at your keyboard pounding and pounding and pounding, like the rain on the roof, that you don’t even have because it’s California and it never rains here.
So, be that rain.
Pound, break, express.

Cause we are art.
We are artists,
we are clouds,
we are waterfalls,
we are songs.
We're what we create



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  • April 26, 2019 - 6:18pm (Now Viewing)

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  • Vannah

    Aw thank you!

    over 1 year ago
  • Inactive

    I love this! Someone finally has accurately described how I feel when I create art or a piece of writing! :)

    over 1 year ago