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Charles Chaplin - A Pair of Allegories of Music and Poetry

If you wish to be a writer, be ready to face huge criticism from people whose minds think in a different way.

Emma Blue.

©Scattered Thoughts

I’ve felt tired lately. Not with the sort of tiredness that could be cured by a good night’s rest, though. Rather, it has been the sort of tiredness that penetrates your soul, oversweeps your whole body and sinks deep into your skins, like a sort of dream that you can’t wake up from. I’ve asked myself the reasons why, and sometimes, you have crystal moments, as though the sky suddenly cleared up a bit, enabling you to see where you’ve stumbled into. It was precisely when I thought I should skip my French exam because I was sure I would fail it. Now, it can be wise to invest your energy in something else if your chances of failing are greater than those of passing. However, if French is something I love and wish to continue with, the time used for study won’t be in vain, after all. No, it must be the path in-between that I’m afraid of; this recovering from failure. It’s one of the hardest lessons in life, and I have not yet the humility and the character that enable me to gracefully soar beyond my failures and mistakes. Of course it wasn’t that which made me tired, but rather, it showed me the pattern, like the path to an intricately weaved carpet. Sometimes, we encounter a road sign, and only then do we realize that we’ve been following the wrong road for miles. It’s like a melody reverberating through all songs of my life. The fear of failure. I seemed to have learnt the immature lesson that, once failed, one should retreat into a lonely shack to spend one’s life pondering one’s shame. I’m exaggerating. But parts of me feel like that, because each rejection feels like a wave, and even just normal conversations, sometimes, sometimes I realize what it means to be not only an introvert, but also an HSP, despite the moments when I can joke around and even perform silly dances with friends; despite the fact that I am good at accommodating, at making people feel at home by embracing them with my speech. At least, I’d like to think of me that way. Sometimes, just these little glances leave too much room for interpretation, and I find myself overthinking my phrasing of a sentence for several hours after the incident. And now with three only-a-few-hours-a-week-jobs and university, I find myself at another limit of me. As ambitious as I usually am, I seem to now be headed towards failure, head-down, exhausted. If I were a smoker, I would probably smoke. If I were a drinker I would probably pour myself some whiskey. But I’m not. I cling to these quiet times of the day like a shipwreck. And I know that my faith could carry me through my fear of failure, make me soar, but it takes time. And now, the exhaustion moves in in waves. I find myself thinking, I don’t have to marry because then someone would have to love me, and I don’t know if I could take it,and if he could survive me, my moods, and all - And as much as I love children, the pain of childbearing and the noise, could I take it? I’m bitter here, am I not. A part of me has decided, long ago, that life does not have to be easy, but then this part grew up and realized that she could change, yet, not completely, that she kept being overwhelmed by “small” situations. HSP. Brains process things differently. It’s nice I can see beauty in everything and write poetry at the onset of a day. It’s nice I can dance to any song unknown because I feel it in my bones, the flow of music. But where does it leave me -? Society is not calm, it is hectic, and I want to decide to try again, to get my head up. It’s just difficult. I want things, of course I do, we all do. I want to fight for the ones who can’t speak for themselves. I want to tell others that God has loved them with an everlasting love and wrap them up in hugs. I want my words to be published in volumes, not because I need my name on them but because I want to know that the things I do can have an impact. I want to move to France, live by the oceanside and write poetry, at least for some time, or at least enjoy the idea of it. And most of all, I want to love others, but for love, one must leave fear behind...