As you struggle through thoughts cluttered in your mind causing you to maintain a dismal sense of reality, you reach out for the pen and the paper in front of you to untangle the very knots of your own baggage. You feel the sorrow, the hurt, the sadness, the anger, the disgust, the contentment, the happiness, whatever may apply, as you let it pour through your ink and leave a mark on the paper instead of your heart.
As your pen bleeds pain or cries tears of joy, you let out the lava of emotions that was boiling in you just seconds ago. As your feelings cascade down your hands onto the thin strip of paper, you feel like a fresh start is welcoming you. You have successfully shed down all the toxins that could have controlled you without even asking for your consent. But now something greater controls you: sheer, unquestionable honesty.
That is perhaps the dichotomy of being a writer of feelings: you become honest unwillingly. While you stitch your words carefully and intelligently enough to convince one of any subject at hand, it also just can’t be any subject. It’s only something you’d have an opinion over and that opinion too pours like water, clear in its nature, carrying astute ability to appeal only if you yourself agree with it. It’s the quality that only a dignified character carries, but as the “good guys get nowhere” cliche goes, this character may have compromised chances at life.
These are the people who will connect to their core and speak of their opinion on the world ever so candidly. These are people who are also very sensitive: they are shrewd in turning the magnanimity of feelings into words and because of this practice, they carry the ability to absorb everything within their reach, trying to find words to describe a stimulus while sometimes contingently feeling the gravity of it. These people are Paulo Coelho, Charles Dickens, Virginia Woolf and all those people who write to themselves; these are people whose journals give them a reflection of themselves clearer than that of the mirror.
These will be people who will always express their opinion and for the fear of uttering words which do not lie on the same page as they are, they will always make sure their selves are in complete harmony with their words; that there lies no contradiction or hypocrisy. These are people who let their feeling tread their bodies like pearls treading silk. These are people who are disgusted by and can not fathom how people lie.
To them, the highest currency is that of moral value and nothing is more satisfying than gathering huge amounts of this currency.