The Art of Being Poetic

I have a friend who I hope becomes an author, because when she writes me letters they’re always filled with descriptive phrases and beautiful words thrown together that somehow create something wonderful. We live several hours away from each other, so we decided upon a letter correspondence, in which we write letters back and forth a few times a month. In the last letter she wrote me, she wrote something that really struck me, because I related so heavily to it.

She writes:

“I’m really not sure what else to say. It’s hardly for lack of good things that have passed through my life in the past 3 weeks. There are really too many pleasurable elements in my life to describe even a fraction of their delights.”

Doesn’t that just sound like something out of a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte novel? And what she writes I’m sure many people have experienced. It happens to me when journaling and blogging, that’s for sure. It’s like, I always manage to write so much more about sad things. It’s easier to pour them onto a page and read them back. But when I’ve had a good day, my journal pages have much more blank space. The good things that have happened are so much better than the sad, but because I’m so happy, it’s hard to put into words why I am and what’s going on.

When I’m sad, on the other hand, words come easy and they flow for pages and pages, because there’s a part of me that has to get it out and make sense of it and understand the pain of what’s going on.

For me, it’s easier to describe a sad event, such as someone hurting me, than it is to write about a happy event, such as someone hugging me. Someone hurting me will equal five pages of grief, whilst a hug will equal one sentence simply saying “they hugged me and yay I can’t stop smiling because it felt so wonderful I want to be there forever and ever”, even though the feelings that I experience in the hug are so much more than that.

It’s funny like that, you know?

Sarah xx

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