Do you ever finally get out of bed after staying up all night to finish a book, or after you read a poem that faultlessly describes the way you feel about life, and you just sit around in a daze not feeling anything? You just feel empty, or maybe you do feel something, some sort of heart ache that makes you feel less than yourself?
It’s all because this piece of writing was so beautiful, and using the limited English vocabulary, this person had picked out the perfect words to write this piece, and it describes exactly how you think, and you read it at the perfect time of your life?
Do you feel sad because you know that here’s this person that can write so much more smoothly than you do, and they could be more intelligent than you to write this piece? Like, you just think, “Wow, why did I not think of writing this myself? It fits in how I feel, like a puzzle piece, and I could have written something this beautiful, so why didn’t I?” Although you also might feel happy, like less of an alien for thinking and feeling such things. Maybe you’re feeling some way, and you assume that no one else will know what you’re going through, and finally you find this piece of writing by a person long gone, or if not, a person you will never meet, and they don’t know about you, they know nothing of you, yet they’re writing a piece and it makes you feel like less of a stranger? Do you read this piece of writing, and it feels like there’s someone holding your hand throughout this period of life you’re going through, and it becomes your favorite piece of art ever?
Shouldn’t you feel empty, though? Because you know you’re going to grow up one day, and you’re going to be sitting in your apartment at your desk, writing, and there will be nothing left to write about? You aspire to be a writer, the sort that people would read you work, and feel as if you’re holding their hand, but can’t because all the best things to write about have already been written about? In such a way that your mediocre writing could never compare to, all because this person was so smart and so in touch with how they feel, that they had the idea to write this beautiful piece of work before you did? And you know that one day you’re going to grow up, and just be another person sitting at a desk in a lamp-lit room, feeling as if you’ll never be more than you are right now?
Maybe it’s not even the subject of which this person chose to write about, but it’s how they wrote it. Even if you don’t feel or think this way, this author has written this piece in such a way that you feel even yourself is going through the same thing? When you finish, you just wonder why you can’t write that way. Why can’t I sound so amazing when I write? Compared to this person, my writing is so amateur. Anyone could write the way that I do, even though I have tried all my life to get onto this level of writing, that it still will just never be good enough? Why don’t I choose words like that to write a poem with? Beautiful, soft words that just flow off of the paper and into my soul and it makes me feel a way I wasn’t feeling in the beginning? Even if this person didn’t use such words that make you think, even if they just wrote in a way that it’s like you’re just speaking and not thinking before you speak, a comfortable type of speaking, how could they do it in such a way that their writing just still feels so special? They’re not writing with the best of their ability, yet it seems to be on of their best works. How do they do it?
All in all, at the end of reading any book, or any poem, or any quote, or anything, you just end up feeling different? You feel so small, because you know no matter what you ever write, it will never amount to being such a great piece of work as this one is, and you will never forget the way it made you feel while writing it? You feel so great, because you feel less cut off from every one else, because here is a person that feels the way you do, and there must be so many other people around the globe reading this same piece of work, and feeling the same exact why that I’m feeling, and that no matter what way I feel, there’s going to be someone who feels the same?
And in the end you can never choose which feeling you like more, and you just sit somewhere feeling so many feelings at once that you just stop feeling anything at all? And you just sit, spending so many moments of you life, trying to figure how you feel, when in the end you know you always choose to just not feel at all?