I want to create.
I want to write. I want to draw. I want to sing, I want to write a poem, a novel, paint a picture, depict my soul on a piece of paper in some way that feels meaningful – but at the same time, I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m just not a creative person.
I know people say “but everyone’s creative!”, but trust me, I’m not. I like being told exactly what to do, to know exactly what is going to happen when, to understand exactly how my future will pan out and have a concrete plan with everything sorted in advance. I don’t do creative. I don’t do spontaneous. I do fixed timings, exact instructions and logical, well reasoned choices. I can’t just pick up a paintbrush and paint how I feel. I can’t pick up a pen and write an accurate and heartfelt description of my soul, my innermost thoughts and feelings. And to be honest, it’s exhausting. I have no outlet.
When I’m feeling mentally drained, that’s it. My thoughts just sit there in the sludge of my fatigue, unable to escape. Some people are able to tap this toxic substance off, to drain away their sluggishness through the nib of a pen of the bristles of a brush. But I can’t do that.
I can’t for two reasons: one, I can’t draw, and my writing is terrible – I’ll hate whatever I produce. And two? I just can’t let myself relax.
I hate it when new teachers say “Okay class; write a bit about yourself so that I can get to know you all!”. What am I expected to write? What would he/she want to know about me? Oh shit, everyone’s writing. What are they writing? I don’t want to write something different that sticks out. Oh help, we’ve only got a minute left! Quickly, sneak a look at what everyone else is writing. Just say something boring. Okay, here goes. I can guarantee that, 99% of the time, my response will go a bit like this:
“My name is Alice and I’m 15. I love dance, especially ballet, which I have been doing since I was four. I also enjoy singing and reading (especially murder mysteries). I have a dog called Bella, who is a rescue from the RSPCA. She barks at people and other dogs a lot but is really sweet and loyal once she stops being scared of you!”
Cringe, right?! And there’s only one thing worse that that. When your English teacher says: “Okay, homework: write a poem about something you care about.”
AAAAH. A poem?! About something you care about?! Nope, nope, nope. Poems feel too vulnerable, too open, too revealing. And a subject I care about? What if I pick a bad subject? I don’t want to sound stupid. What if I pick something completely different to everyone else? Then what?
And, not only do you have to write in the most vulnerable form of script – someone else on whom you want to make a good impression is going to read it. And that’s a scary prospect.
Which is my whole problem.
I’ve never been able to show how I feel on paper, and that is why: it’s too revealing. What if someone you respect read it? What would they think? Not only that, being honest with yourself is difficult when it comes to writing it down. For example, I used to keep a journal of sorts. I’d bullet point random thoughts/facts about the day I’d had. I promised myself that I’d be honest – but, a lot of the time, I would be unable to write how I felt or scribble down something that was bothering me. Why? Because it was permanent. Because once it was down on that paper, it was unchangeable and out there for anyone to find. And that, to me, is terrifying.
It’s funny, really. I consider myself to be quite an open person, especially with my friends. When it hits the 3am mark at a sleepover and the super deep conversations really start to gather momentum, I am more than happy to join in. I enjoy the openness of it; I like giving advice and support to others and receiving it in return. But ask me to write down what I tell the group during those conversations? No thank you.
I wish I was a more talented person when it comes to creating. I have so many visions in my head, but when it comes to picking up a pen and realising them in ink they just never turn out quite how I want them to. As a young child, that really frustrated me. My mind was filled with images of fairies and dragons and badass characters with a plethora of gadgets, but when I tried to draw them, I failed miserably. I could never get those images onto paper – something that hasn’t changed.
I know that this post has been long and rambling, and I doubt that anyone will even get this far (creds to you if you did!), but essentially this has been me trying to pin down my frustration and conflicting thoughts of wanting to do something and feeling unable to do it, and to be honest, I’m hoping that writing it will give me some respite. You know what? Maybe, this blog is my creative outlet. Maybe the only form I will ever be able to let my negative feelings flow into is this. Who knows?
I just hope that I find a way to release my stress soon, or I’m going to go crazy.