Paradox might be my middle name…
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A dear person of mine, with whom my relationship has no definitive label, once told me: “Although you are a walking sunshine, it shocks me that you know what pain feels like, and the depth you have really contradicts your power to brighten someone else’s day.” Maybe it wasn’t a contradiction, but more of a norm that the brightest lights are born from the darkest shadows? But to be honest, these words made me feel better about myself, romanticizing that although I’m aware of my pain and not escaping it, I’m still living as a human who tries to experience joy in an imperfect life.
Anyhow, my #1 fan —aka my bestie— told me today, with the most serious face I have ever seen on her, to start taking my writing seriously. Apparently, she believes that I have the potent power to publish something extraordinary that has no label nor familiar structure, yet it would reach people’s hearts.
Last August, I wrote a letter that has never been sent, but I published it somewhere appropriate. I was defending my stance as a person experiencing an ugly feeling that is necessary to grow, but most people are not comfortable enough to face it and usually escape it; however, I was courageous enough to do so. In that letter, I was asking for my right to be respected while being a mere human being with dignity carving its way in life. Every comment I received on that letter was about how scary it would be if that letter were written by an AI Agent because it was so touching.
Only I know my most impactful words were written unconsciously, and they ended up with me shedding tears in random public places. The best of my writings weren’t planned… I was feeling an immense emotion but I never cried, so I ended up writing it down until I suddenly cried. That’s why whenever I’m at a public place, which mostly happens to be cafés, I always ask for extra napkins. Because I don't mind crying in public, but I do mind looking ugly and miserable while shedding tears in public; not because I care about my looks, but because getting attention out of people’s kindness stops me from crying, which I need… and the worst part of my day is when I take the unused napkins to my car because I didn’t cry and I can’t return them… now my car is a waste-field of clean napkins on standby for my tears —of joy, I hope—.