So much time has passed and I have learnt so much in life. And I believe it reflects in the evolving style in my poetry. Yes, I still do poetry. It started back in December 2014, almost 4 years now. Poetry has been a sport-- jotting down the voices in my head to clear it; selling my struggles for a vague expression. Looking back at the journey I have made, I see so much more complexity in my poetry now. It used to go short and direct, giving a setting in merely a few lines long. Very simple use of words, very innocent kind of story-telling. I thank poetry, for it has been there when I thought the world has shut me out. It is like a canvas I know I can paint on without the concern of somebody judging me. I mean, people judge anyway, but I know it’s the only platform where I can express without having to feel scared. I have been through both beautiful sunrises and dark hours in life. I couldn’t help but letting most of my poetry describe how dark or depressed my inner personality had been through, for pain is a feeling more long-lasting than love.
In my poetry, I saw hopes crashing down over and over again for certain individuals; I saw that perhaps the world was right to shut me out; I saw a tint of sunlight which brought me optimism and joy; I saw how these smiles turned into tears hidden in the sinking heart again. My poetry grew longer, darker, more complex. There were more and more echoes ringing in my head. I had countless sleepless nights which not all could be improved by expressing my worries through poetry. Poetry was not the ultimate savior. There were just more voices, which I could not turn into words. I saw no formation, or shapes of my thoughts. They were just buzzing, like a morning alarm. So when I couldn’t write, I choked, metaphorically.
Sometimes my poetry makes sense to me, which I’m glad, for it at least holds a meaning, I knew better of what I was going through. Also, every poet knows this well-- not every soul could truly immerse themselves in the words we say, or feel us in our tales. None of the lines I have left transparent appears the exact clarity to others. I’m glad, but not all the time. I sometimes do hope that someone somewhere does notice that I perhaps need a listening ear, a hug, a pat on my head or an encouraging note. If only, we all can be a bit more empathetic by paying a little more attention to the ones surrounding us, by giving them genuine smiles assuring our presences, by not shunning them off for feeling scared and worried, by not prioritising just our own happiness, by not cutting them off when they need to be heard.
Check it out: http://euanlifepoet.blogspot.com/
I have been there. And how I wish the community around me have reached out to me. And how I wish I have offered the ones in need too. I have failed them, so have others failed me. Poetry could help, but it’s the growth of a community as a whole towards a more caring direction that is able to prevent issues like self-harm, suicide, bullying and substance abuse.
Whist preparing for my external examinations, I watched Netflix original series 13 Reasons Why. I had a lot of thoughts about the show, from both the supportive and opposing perspectives. I think while Hannah put the blame on others for neglecting or hurting her feelings, she should understand that sometimes our inner emotions appear rather unapparent to others. She should voice out her thoughts rather than victimising herself. Also, she could have at least done something when Jessica and her were raped, instead of keeping the silence. On the other hand, I think that the community itself should be responsible for their actions, like Courtney and Ryan should have thought of the consequences to their decisions. The aftermath of an action does not only affect ourselves but others. Not considering others’ well-being is a selfish act. Thus, I organised a mental health awareness talk in my current school, Kolej Tuanku Ja’afar, on 26 June 2018. I’ll talk all about it in my next post.
By,
Euan Thum.
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