There are certain things that I have to face as an expressive person. The second biggest of those things is being mis-understood. the biggest is actually being understood and harshly judged by the people who love you. I straddle the line of two different worlds. I am not connected enough to popular culture to desire to create popular art (thing that get you “likes” and “shares”). But I am also not disconnected enough to be unconcerned of how my artistic expression will be perceived by the majority. The very fact that I can have an idea and immediately categorize it as “weird” is a result of having one foot inside of the pop culture box.
The unfortunate result is an enormous amount of self- censorship that occurs in my creative process. Thousands of ideas left unexplored, hundreds of pictures kept private, scores of writing that has never been read and videos that never reach any eyes. And these things go unexpressed not because of the possible reaction from strangers, but the perception from the ones I love most.
Sometimes I feel as tho having such strong approval and support can be a double edged sword. It’s a cherished and incredibly valuable possession but it has also been my bondage. The fear of losing that admiration and support keeps me from expressing my growth. I know for sure that they love the boy I was; I don’t know how they will accept the man that I am now. But the act of holding on to person they have placed such pride in, only reinforces in my mind that who I really am will be a disappointment.
Today, I found out that an old friend of mine passed away. Without knowledge of the events that took her out of this world at such a young age, I immediate froze up upon hearing the news. There was an overwhelming feeling of mortality and pointlessness. Instantly, the task I was doing at that moment felt completely pointless in the grand scheme of life.
My mind spiraled; How much about who she really was did we all know? How much of her true essence was kept as a secret within herself? How much of the beauty that laid within did she take with her? Was the world deprived of any bit of her greatness or did it seep thru her pores like light trying to be contained in a glass box. What if I die now? What would have been the point of all this censorship? So that I can have a great eulogy and a standing room only funeral? What’s the point of people looking up to you if they don’t really see you? Or do they actually see me better than I see myself? Have they seen the light poking thru and have been waiting for me to shine brighter?
I have tip-toed the line of unrestricted expression many times. Yet still, I don’t cross the line. I hope the fear leaves me and I find the bravery to show the world thru my eyes or not show it at all. I feel that this current selective display is dishonest as an artist. I want to be that light in a glass box. Shining in truth regardless of all circumstances. even when it is completely enveloped, it still shines the same. So that in actuality when people are looking at a plain box, all they really see is the light inside.
