i remember someone asking, who are you writing for? the question surprised me, as the answer seemed obvious. myself. the act of writing has never been about the audience for me. it's always been about the answers. the answers you can only find thru reliving the events that haunt you. when i put words down on the page, i reread the acts as if they create a path on a map. by the end of each paragraph, i moved closer to the truth.
my obsession with truth started when i was left to consider the aftermath of a breakup without any contact with my ex. he wouldn’t answer my burning questions, so searched out the answers on my own. i burned my worries into the page and let any heat from the pain singe until there was none left.
the thing about fire, no matter how many times you piss on it, smoke still finds a way to seep out of the ash.
so who am i writing this for? i’m writing this for myself, and maybe a little for you. for you to grapple with what i'm grappling with. for you to feel some sense of connection with me. after all, my obsession with truth came from a period when i had none. when i write these words it’s like casting a spell. the outcome will benefit myself, and myself only, but it might affect a few others along it’s way.
i often wonder who i could hurt with a poem, published online, or worse, a book of poems about how much hate i can hold in my heart. hate is kind of like writing to figure something out, you can’t help it. once your energy is bundled and you’re brave enough to let it expel, the feeling is out in the world and you can’t help it.
maybe i'm writing to someone, but not for anyone. writing a love poem is kind of like casting a love spell. the target needn’t read the poem or hear the spell for it’s affect to hold. but i’m not writing this for you. i’m not holding onto any grudges.
i write to take control over what’s impossible to control. life. full of magic, full of poetry.
you don’t have to carry crystals or a journal with you to feel those things. magical acts inspire us every day. taking a photo is the same as capturing a moment thru poetry. it’s the feeling we get when a monday goes right for once, or the trip you’ve been planning for months finally arrives. it’s a feeling, and no one else needs to know it, but once you feel it, i think other people can’t help themselves from noticing too.
i remember this question when i consider community. is making myself a place to express my emotions more important than the energy of the space itself?
instead of, who am i writing for? i ask myself, who am i listening to? which of you are casting spells that resonate around me? and how can i harness that resonation like a pendulum telling me yes, stay honest or no, never let them know. these worries stalk me out until i sit down and think thru writing.
not who am i writing for, but who do i trust to read? whose energies am i willing to soak up? what inspires me?
energies i attempt to harness are the ones helping me stand up. energies helping me shout my truth instead of write it down. energies helping me summon other spirits rather than making mine stronger.
there’s so much potential within ourselves, that’s why i write, to see it. but imagine that potential in focus, its power and its use... i choke up with wonder when considering it all.
until we live in truth instead of just searching for it, i’ll be writing for myself and continuing to try to understand the reasons you write for yourself too. maybe that’s the only chance i have to feel a connection, to feel you in me for a moment and know i’m not alone.
catch business is a young woman and unknown writer. she lives and dies daily in denver.