An Almost Truth
I have spent my entire week questioning my existence and writing poems that could rival the cheesiness of king Solomon as seen in Songs of Solomon. I have also spent my entire week trying to write this very thing. I initially wanted to write about sadness but even Calum Scott’s saddest songs couldn’t bring me to write about it. So, I decided to write about writing about sadness instead. I last published any of my work on medium in November 2020 and I last wrote yesterday morning about the depth of the eyes of a boy I met last month. Every week since November, I wrote something for my blog but I couldn’t publish any of them because they were about the jarring truthfulness of life. Publishing them would have in a kind of way exposed me to the reality I was shying away from. I am still shying away from reality though. I also haven’t published anything on Medium since November because of the number of finely written rejection emails on my phone. Last year, I spent most of my time sending out pitches to various editors and the ending of the year came and left rejection in its wake. Rejection does a lot of things to one. I had read about rejection but nothing prepared me for the startling ugliness of it. Rejection brought fear. Fear that my writing was abysmal. My mother tells me that I am a brilliant writer and I do believe her. Soon, I will come to terms in entirety with the fact that rejection is far from failure. I am scared as I write this that the carefully concealed truth will seep through my fingers. Why did I write this? Because this is as close as I can get to the truth and maybe the boy whose eyes I wrote about will read this and leave me a text. The next time I write, I will write about happier things. I promise.
