Let It Out

Note: This story was repurposed for the Writers Section from a poem I had posted a while back: “Just Bare It.” If you read that, feel free to skip this.

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Ah my lonely, hopeful, vacillating fellow writers, nervously contemplating the ramifications of openly expressing your truth: Concerned about sharing it for a capricious world to see in a place where anyone can read your hearts fears and desires. Where strangers may glimpse your hidden nooks: Peer into the recessed crannies of your haunted mind. I urge you to do so. It’s Cathartic.

When you’re storm tossed, riding frothy curling waves, grasping rails in a dingy nearly capsized… Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

If your mind is a whirl, jumbled with wonder at some unprecedented joyous event. If your brain is a chaotic whirling morass of scattered thoughts and feelings -Write it down. Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

Yes, some may judge unfairly. Some may sneer and post hateful drivel. They are unhappy souls trying to lift themselves up via advent of tearing others down. So? Haters gonna hate my friends. They are not, nor should you allow them to be, the arbiters of your story. Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

As jumbled thoughts pour forth: Written in your heart’s crimson blood, dripping clotted ink ground in the mortar of your soul with the pestle of your very being, they will begin to find an order. Allow the flow. Breach the dam. Let the morass of emotions align themselves, be it slowly and painfully or quickly and naturally. Either way, Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

Not only will ordering the chaotic morass of your own confused meandering misfiring synapses help you soothe your own mind, it may cause a deeper understanding of yourself, and possibly of others, unreachable otherwise. At the least, you can begin to laugh at the absurdity of a capricious, pernicious fate: Or maybe begin to find sense in the senseless. Regardless: Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

Your story may be a romance full of drivel and mooning. It may be a tragedy full of angst, pain, and loss. Possibly a drama, a saga unfolding episode by episode as we wander through The Days Of Our Lives. Perhaps a comedy - slapstick, romantic, or other. Most of us live day to day in a dramedy. No matter… Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

Should you then choose to share it with us here, as I truly hope you do, worry not about other’s reactions. Write for yourself first and foremost. THEN Write for your lover: Your father, mother, brother, sister, or a stranger. Write for the bully who torments you mercilessly as well as the friend who is there for you as you help each other over stumbling blocks.

🐾🐾🐾🐾😎😔😅😇😛🤓😞😣😤😭😢🐾🐾🐾🐾

Who knows, you will probably feel better. Even better, your words may find a kindred spirit. They may help a fellow human being strugglimg through similar travails. They may just touch someone’s heart, soothing their tormented mind at the exact right moment. Your words, your journey, may become a lighthouse. A beacon of hope in a dark, cloudy night when their own storm tossed ship is approaching ragged shoals.

…. ….

They may not. Who knows? Either way… Put it on paper. Let it out. It’s Cathartic.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾

Voltaire said, “Writing is the painting of the voice.” Well, some paintings may be loud - screaming out their story - while others portray a quiet reflection in a pond: Some a jumbled mass of weird indecipherable color. No matter. Either has an audience. Paint your words on the Cistine Chapel of our minds. We have more art appreciaters than critics.

✍🏽 🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾💄🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾✍🏽🤙🏾