The mass consumption of poetry put a pressure on me. Every day I would write or draft a poem. I repeated that routine almost all of summer. I came to slowly realize it was draining me of my creativity and confidence. I was producing poetry that was a waste of my time. All the things I was writing were terrible and the drafts I had accumulated I couldn’t complete. I realized my drafts were always just a long stanza I couldn’t find direction to. After staring at my draft for too long I convinced myself that it had potential, so I stayed up late trying to force it to find its end. When I would start seeing the sunrise through my window I realized these drafts had no purpose. That truth made me feel like a failure to my own craft. It wouldn’t let me fall asleep right away. Often throughout the day I found myself asking what I was doing wrong. I started becoming intimidated by the page. I couldn’t pick up a pen, type anything on word, or even think about what’s the next leap I wanted my poetry to gain.
It was a month ago that something suddenly changed within me. I began noticing how frequent my fear of writing something and challenging myself was becoming. I had to stop for a second and ask myself what was wrong out loud. After two minutes of asking myself what’s wrong I was able to voice out loud what the issue was. The issue was honesty. The writing I was forcing myself to produce over the summer was not honest. An integral part for me to feel fulfillment come to fruition in my writing relies on honesty. That component was shattered in the failed efforts I was putting to writing, writing, and writing away with no purpose in mind.
Honesty was part of the issue the other part was myself. I didn’t want to come to terms with things. Honesty meant accepting the experiences I am going through, went through, will go through, and writing about them in order to heal. I wasn’t ready to heal because I was still figuring out how to process, accept, and grow from all the challenges revolving my day to day life.
After feeling angry with the lack of growth I was accomplishing with my writing I decided to tackle every issue I was afraid of being honest with on. This resulted with me writing on sticky post-it notes all the issues I didn’t want to face. In a matter of minutes half of my bed’s head-frame was filled with post-it notes with my issues. These post-it notes gave me a big reflection on what my current state of mind is. All the issues I wrote down at the moment inflict so much emotional pain on me. At the top of the post-it list is my mother’s health.
It felt uneasy at first deciding I was going to write about my mother’s health again. There were four post-it notes that I wrote in regards to that issue. One had false messiah, the other song, the third one had blood (x3) nose bleed, and the last one had mother. For two weeks I would just look at those post-it notes, while embracing and organizing my thoughts, feelings, and identifying my pain over them. It was agonizing but at the same time therapeutic. On the third week I drafted out a layout on what I wanted the central components of my poem to consist of.
This step by step process and the amount of time it was taking for me to write wasn’t new to me. I had become unfamiliar with it. I stopped doing these things after I turned nineteen. It took a month for me to write a poem that had outstanding quality to me. I performed this poem at EastSide Poetry at The Daily Brew Coffee Bar in Montebello, California about a week ago. Whether the poem was successful to the audience I do not know. The important thing is that as an artist it was successful to me and that it was the best representation of what I currently am aiming for with my poetry. I cannot express to you enough how important it is for you to find your purpose. What is your purpose? Find your purpose. Every day I wake up reflecting on my purpose and asking myself if it’s still relevant to the person I need to be right now. If it’s not I find a way for my purpose to either change or adapt to who I am.