Writing

Dear,

I’ve been writing ever since I could remember as soon as I could hold a pen and write. I remember my teacher in year 4 and 6 teaching me to spell, I struggled with spelling.

I’d be influenced to write from tv shows and cartoons. I’d fold pieces of paper up and create books and stories. It helped me heal and escape to a place that made me feel like normal.

Most of my writing was private like diaries, letters. I never thought as an adult how provoked and how childish people would react over a poem or a piece of writing.

I began writing confessional poetry 5 years ago after a close friend physically and mentally hurt me, but continued to talk to me for 4 years through text messaging.

I wanted to forgive them and move on but in doing so it destroyed a great deal of myself, I then wrote poems about things that hurt me or hurt others, and of acts and behaviours of others, after experiencing domestic abuse in two relationships it was the only thing I had left, writing never did anything to hurt me it stood by me it got me onto radio and TV it got voices of others writing. I tried to always forgive my writing if I made a mistake.

I would say a great deal of my writing is a curse because it is emotions and things that probably wouldn’t normally be published, I published them more so after my grandad died thinking, well once I’m dead it doesn’t matter what I’ve said or done in the world even more so if I don’t say anything at all.

That’s been a view, might be extreme or maybe people can read and learn and interpret it as they wish.

This caused lost of arguments people taking them the wrong way or accusing me of things. People being angry instead of thoughtful when sometimes my poem isn’t a direct insult it is a disappointment or a hope of something from that relationship.

Although it echoes some blame it has never intended to really cause any harm, and also in ways I have hoped it would just be another piece of writing that future generations or people can look back on and wonder what it was about. So when I started losing people I wondered if it was me and my writing or the person? Then remembering what someone close to me would always say is it’s never the writing, if people get an emotion from it then there must be something they feel about it.

About a year ago I met this same someone who told me never to care what people think about what I write, that my writing was and is good. That I had talent, that it was good and not to give a fuck about what people thought.

That same person I write a poem with a little part of it about them, echoing that I looked up to them and they gave in and why? And would they ever get themselves back? And questions, they took huge offence.

That actually I felt bad for, I never wanted that I just wanted them to listen. They also told me if I ever wrote a poem and it was about them they wanted their name on it, and now they say they never said that, so whatever. They forgot me and the poetry conversations we had for the past year.

The parts where I’m telling the reader “I don’t want to participate in your open mic nights”, is me saying, “you stopped being a friend to me, now you bombard me with invites, how you think that feels?”, just another highlighter of Facebook interaction that is wrong I suppose why do people treat one another like that?

Not only did they take offence they then criticised me writing poems “I shouldn’t write poems”, it’s my choice if I want to basically commit poetry suicide, if I have a clean conscience, bitter, angry instead of reading the words.

‘Ex’s name’, poem was never supposed to make people go extreme and angry towards me it was to highlight a common flaw we do in relationships. It was to show a feeling that can and does happen, I didn’t think it would actually tear down a whole relationship and cause friends to be angry towards me. It’s just an example of things people don’t want to talk or hear about. To me I was actually breaking, I was in a nice relationship with someone whom seemed to care about me yet when I woke up with them they call me an ex’s name. A warning sign that perhaps that person was thinking about their ex and not myself, it was devastating realisation that he was not interested in me. I needed my friends, but I had to drag my self along, alone. And I was punished because of a poem instead of people thinking well actually this person has just done something pretty stupid.

I wrote some more poems some about depression then I was hounded down for writing about poems that are too sad people don’t want sad or depression.

So I then wrote about my own relationship experiences and I was accused of being obsessed over my ex’s and emotions unhinged, I was bullied by my ex’s girlfriend and trolled on the internet.

So, I wrote about a recent event. I wrote a poem called ‘Wolves’, which was about how people have groups of people who pick and bully one another and pressure them to be in certain groups within the poetry scene. How people can act caring but then when it’s serious not really be that supportive, selfishness and depression.

About someone who is huge influence and a great character but given in and lost a lot of spirit. In writing it I wanted to give that person inspiration to write to act and perform. But all they saw from it was ‘abuse’ they blocked me, banned me and they had people asking if they was ok. My emotions disregarded and people didn’t even ask about the poem or anything what it meant. They assumed I was just ‘angry’.

So what do I get? I lose friends, family and I get internet abuse but I still write. God knows why I still write?

The one person who told me “never to give up”, to “keep writing” is now telling me to not write. I watched them give up I saw them give in and I watched them lose their ego. I recognised hurt and I gave them sympathy and empathy and I got shut out.

My dear readers become friends with yourself learn your instincts and love your soul. Because people who you think love you, care for you, can also pray upon you, use you and belittle you. They can forget who you are forget that you are only human and forget what you meant to them. What a relationship meant to them. That being any relationship from a friendship to a romantically involved relationship.

I tried to repair the relationship after ex’s name poem, I sent multiple messages I apologised I confronted them I tried to talk I got emotionally hurt and attached. I was struggling with hormonal problems and periods at the time I was physically unwell too but it didn’t matter to them they read the message and pushed me aside. They had their sex from me, I didn’t mean anything anymore.

I sent a letter to the people who was trolling me saying I didn’t want to cause any hurt I needed child maintenance for my son, they abused me.

I tried to resolve “wolves” poem, got told it was abusive and to stop writing, people ran to a side and I got left in a corner.

I know my truth. My writing hasn’t let me down it will stand by me as much as it can and I will try and nurture it more and direct it more. I just wanted to give a unique way of writing something that’s not completely made up, confessional and true.

That’s all,

and if you knew me, remembered me, the conversations then non of it would really matter. If you got to know me understand me instead of shutting me down then you’d know.

One thought on “Writing

  1. It’s hard to let your heart and soul speak their piece. To do it for yourself. To let your inner voice be heard and the pen copy down the words that describe how you feel and what was done. It takes an inner courage to do as you were advised and just say – “Fuck It”! I did the best I could but was probably a little more gentle than my heart wanted me to be. Love your writing!!
    Chuck

    Liked by 1 person

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