It’s when i’m happy that I feel less than inspired.
The heavy heart brings me words to say, the nerve to say them without fear of the reaction i’ll be hearing.
Although I like being happy, it’s the torn heart, the broken mind, and the sadness that drains my body that brings the words through my brain to the tip of this pen onto paper.
Much like a cutter brings a razor to their skin to draw blood to feel okay, I bring my pen to the paper and speak the words I wrote to draw reactions from a crowd to feel the same.
I live my life based off the inspiration I feel.
Every move I make, word I say, expressions throughout the day give me the motivation to say that “I’m okay.”
I don’t understand why someone would rather be happy and uninspired than be inspired and bring happiness to others through the work that they create.
I live for the words, and my words exist to create comfort in others hearts and release the pain that they’re feeling, hoping that they’re okay.
Even if just for a moment, I want to be the reason for someone to say “I will be okay.”​