I don’t want to lie on my deathbed someday; whether that eventually is thirty or forty years or three weeks from now; and be buried underneath all my regrets.
I need to create.
I need to leave something that will live long after I’ve left this earth.
I question whether anyone will remember me for what I’ve left behind and if it is even important.
I want to spend every day of my life creating and as I sit here writing this, I feel myself becoming emotional; tears run down my cheeks and I know, without a shadow of a doubt that this is truly my calling.
I need to create.
In the same way I need to breath.
I need to create something out of nothing.
I need to fill blank pages with my sorrows, worries, and fears and turn it into something beautiful to share with others.
I need to express my thoughts and dreams and connect with others.
And that is ultimately why I need to create, why I need to write. Why my life needs to be an open book.
I need to build a bridge between my fears and another’s loneliness.
I want to leave breadcrumbs in the form of poetry and stories so that someone else can find their way and their voice.
I need to share my life so that another person can be brave enough to share their story.
It is my calling.
Every day that passes that I do not write, express or create, feels truly wasted. On those days I feel as if I’ve betrayed my calling. I have wasted an entire day not living as I should.
I feel as if I did not live at all.
Even when I’ve tried to avoid it, when I’ve tried to ignore it. When I told myself it wasn’t important, there was always this nagging feeling inside me, tugging at me, pushing me in a certain direction.
And I knew, it was futile trying to turn my back on it; I am an artist. I am a creative.
You may not always understand what I create, you may not always enjoy what I share and you may even mock and laugh at me but that will only encourage me more.
Knowing that I am an artist, reminds me that I must create every day. It is not just a calling but it is also a responsibility.
Writing is an art; the blank page is my canvas, words are my paint and the world and this life is my muse.
What you finally see before you; is my work of art.
My gift to you.