catharsis

from an ancient greek word, it means 'purification' or 'cleansing' - used to refer to the purgation of thoughts or emotions by way of expressing them. the desired result is an emotional state of renewal and restoration. 'in dramaturgy, the term usually refers to arousing negative emotion in an audience, who subsequently expels it, making them feel happier'.

    but all of this is just words. i picked this word because i like the arrangement of it, i like the way it falls of my tongue. ca-thar-sis. and i've been thinking about art and creation and what i create for and what i write for and this is going to be fragmented, this whole piece is going to be fragmented. i stopped writing at a very specific point last year - i know exactly when i lost my flow. or rather, i know exactly when i stopped it. i know exactly why. 

    i want to live past it all

    but i want meaning. i want what i write to have meaning, and im listening to an artist i used to listen to when i was younger to 'feel something' and it hurts, because i can hear the pain and the disharmony within a self - the raw need to just express, to put the most vulnerable parts of yourself out there. 

    i need meaning. what do i write about? i need a poem, i have a pen and i have paper and i could write. you might as well have put a weapon in my hand. but i need to make something out of it but theres this box theres a box within which i am allowed to exist. there is a box within where i have to move and i want to break free i want to make sense but

    nothing really makes sense. there is no sense of clarity and i do not know who to help first, i dont know where i should be. i dont exist for myself, i have never existed for myself. the point of this, the point of it all is that i do it for another, i do it for someone else, i take the blame and the brunt of it - and i have people come to me years later and tell me how they found it admirable. and i remember talking to my friend about how suffering is seen as a holy act and the ultimatum, which is why people try to one-up your suffering. 

    and i think. i think i've been trying to get closer to something divine. its a stupid notion, to think that if i took the brunt of it all i would get somewhere but these are all

    justifications for i dont know where i start

    and i dont wish to know. 

    i desperately need meaning. i've been called to write, i have the pen and the paper and i have a voice and i could, i could write. but what do i write of if you tell me that if i dont stick to your box youll take away my voice and this is going in circles. 

    you confine the artist. you confine the artist, you replace them with a machine because their existence is proof of your eventual hell. you confine the artist first - for the artist is grotesque, eldritch, tapping into a vein of the earth invisible to you. you do not wish to hear of the children you've killed, the people you've doomed - the blood of this planet you drain to drink as holy wine, and some more. you replace the artist with a machine, do you think this will save you? 

    you confine the artist for you fear within their poetry the rallying cry will ring. you burn the art for fear of a symbol, of a mockingjay - but the irony, my dearest, is that youve set the stage yourself. 

    i do not see a way out. but i'll burn whats left of me if it meant i could make meaning.