My problem with being too happy is that I forget to write.
Right now, I can honestly say that I’m happy. Everything’s going well in my life. There are down moments at times but my optimism drives the unhappiness away.
I’ve been trying to write a story or a poem or even a blog post (I’ve been only successful with blog posts lately and Ibthink most of them are rants just like this one). But I find myself staring at a blank page of microsoft word searching and sqeezing creative juices out as much as I can but the farthest I’ve gotten was a paragraph. I don’t even know where it’s going so I deleted that file. I want to make stories but I’m not inspired. I tried recalling the things that I’ve thought whenever I wrote the stories I wrote before. It felt so easy, like words freeing themselves from your mind that it becomes so simple as breathing (I mean simple breathing with lungs that don’t suck at being lungs like Hazel Grace’s. I love that book BTW.) But now a days I can’t even get through a single concept or idea.
So I reviewed my past stories and poems. There was a common theme among them. It was sadness, rejection, unrequited love or affection and tragic endings. I don’t know why but I think I find it quite difficult to express my happiness through words or how to make a literary art about it.
But of course, maybe these assumptions of mine can be all wrong. (I’ve just thought of this at this second huzzah). Maybe…just maybe I’m happy because I resist to feel otherwise? What if I’m unconsciously filtering my emotions and just accept and retain in me the positive ones. I mean, nothing much wrong about that but…
Being a writer means allowing yourself to be vulnerable and feel all kinds of emotions. Being a writer means being able to be real and to be honest with yourself, which I think I’ve been having a hard time doing because I’ve been supressing (yet again) am emotion that I decline to feel.
I think I know what my problem is