I'm not a writer.

I'm not a writer

I’m not a writer, at least not in the way people usually mean it. Let me explain.

I’m an artist. Not in a cocky way, just in the quiet, honest way of loving creation in all its forms. The dictionary calls it art: “the expression of human creativity and imagination, often in a visual form.” Art stretches far beyond that; it lives wherever emotion takes shape.

It exists not only in painting and sculpture, but also in the movement of dance, in the emotion of acting, in the light of a photograph, in the rhythm of music, and yes, even in writing. Each form is its own language, carrying its own weight, and touching people in ways words alone sometimes cannot.

People often see art as something that has to be beautiful, but art was never meant to be that. Art isn’t meant to be pretty; it’s meant to disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed.

I’m a more traditional kind of artist, the kind people usually picture. I paint and draw. I’m not the best at it, but it gives me a way to express things I can’t always say out loud. Most of my work comes from my thoughts and emotions. I don’t usually explain my work, because the same piece can mean something completely different to each person. Someone might hate it, while someone else might see their past or even their future in it.

After completing a piece, I do write the meaning behind every painting, for anyone who’s curious, who wants to get to know a part of me. But I never see art as just a single-person thing. It’s a journey, one that a person goes through and then makes art upon. But it’s also an experience, like a mirror, seen and lived by everyone who encounters it, so they see themselves in the art. I chose writing because it felt like a natural way; it lets me express what painting can’t always hold. And now, though I don’t try to define every single meaning, I just write and let it live, just like I do with art.

I’ll be honest, anyone who knows me knows I can’t write to save my life. Maybe I should get diagnosed with dyslexia (just kidding!). I mean, I was just Googling the spelling for this word, so yeah. But seriously, I’m trying here.

So maybe I am not a writer in the traditional sense, but this is still my way of saying something, of letting a part of myself be seen. Even if it is not perfect, it is real and that, for me, is enough. And maybe, it will mean something to you to because this is how I share a part of myself, and maybe, in that you will see something you didn’t know you knew.

(Every song lyric I add in the start also has its own emotion, but for this one I'll add a painting of mine:)