It is true that we understand so much more when we are older and while you can never go back and correct a wrong decision you can opt to take from it the good things and use the thorns and weeds and poison to learn lessons that will help you avoid making the same mistake again. I have known true pain, most people have and those who haven't have not lived. This is not a comparison of pain or depths of pain or whose pain is more worthy of pity, it is a simple dedication to the pain we feel and how artists can take their pain and morph it into something beautiful and tragic all at once. For me, it is often cathartic because it is so much a part of me and so tied to everything I do that it would drive me mad not to put it out there - whether anybody opted to read it or not.
What is my pain? Does it matter? Pain is pain and I have nearly come out the other side of it this time, hoping for a lull before the next wave hits. No, not physical pain but the burning, emotional kind that leaves you raw in all the worst places. The kind that keeps you up writing in the wee hours of the morning because it is the only way you will possibly land a few meager hours of sleep. Melodramatic? Yes, I suppose it is, but true nonetheless.
I guess what I am saying is that after the pain, the best things happen, the best paintings and dance recitals and songs and books come out of some of the worst things we can face in life. Do not hide your pain, do not shove it aside, work through it and come out the other side with something beautiful in its place.
Live through the pain, work through it and come out the other side. After the pain.
