Pick up your pen and write.
Write like no-one will ever read a word.
Write the emotional truth and fiction you’ve always been too scared to admit to yourself.
Write the kind of things you know you don’t have the courage to tell anyone else.
Write it, even if you never intend to tell anyone else.
Imagine you’re writing in invisible ink, and not a soul has the adequate means to decipher it.
Write things that are never meant to be read, as if they were never meant to be read.
Write in the most naked form you have ever thought your mind could be in.
Your words will be bound with the secrecy of your own willpower.
So don’t think about exposure; when we see new things without clothing, they are discoveries.
Write like you will never read your own words,
And don’t go back to check, or bother trying to correct.
In its most natural form, life itself is a draft.
Write the things you have never consciously affirmed.
Affirm them consciously on paper, and as soon as the tip of your pen leaves the page, forget.
Don’t tell yourself you’ll never be able to forget.
Talk to yourself in literature, but never read; you’ll hear anyway.
Time along the line of growth,
Hours, days, weeks, years away,
You’ll never be able to compare yourself to the person you never were.
The whole time you were writing blindly in the dark,
Black ink on black paper, unreadable,
Perhaps it never occurred to you that it was cathartic,
Releasing toxins that were never given the chance to affect you –
You have healed yourself of a sickness you never gave yourself the chance to have.
Perhaps when you’re older,
And have forgotten how wise you once were,
Unclothe the containers of the words whose existence you deliberately denied,
And nakedness, you will see, is the barest truth.