A thought in my mind that bothers me is like a dense cloud over my head that won't go away. Whenever I manage a smile, that nagging thought comes back and suddenly it feels forced. It's a deadweight I'm chained to; I'm prisoner to it.
And then when I can't take it anymore, I write it out. Usually it's on my blog. And then the negative memory or thought that's been haunting me becomes a tool. Then I press Publish Post and read it over on my blog and make a few edits until I'm satisfied with how it turns out.
And suddenly, the negative thoughts aren't mine anymore. It's like as if they were meant to serve another purpose - they're part of a story that's meant to be told. No longer a personal deadweight that's keeping me from a carefree smile - they've been set to soar with the beauty of words. Then somehow, the experiences don't haunt me in a personal way. It's a part of a story I've set flight to.
I'd relate this to Harry Potter's Quidditch ball. Remember the small golden thing? When it's in Harry's hands, it's trembling, its wings are buzzing incessantly, it's struggling, struggling. And then finally he releases his grip. And the little ball disappears into the sky. It's been set free.
That's kinda how it feels like.
That's what I meant when he said he didn't really agree with how I put up a lot of my very personal thoughts online for the world to see, and I said that somehow, I prize the beauty of words more than.... than the privacy of the things I write about that I'd actually rather keep private.
It's all a story waiting to be told. To touch a heart or two; to be a mirror to a stranger; to show some girl somewhere that she isn't alone.
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