I’ve always admired good writers. Those who could make you feel these deep unexplainable feelings and emotions with just a few simple words. There are a lot of decent writers out there…but so few good writers. Then again, writing is considered an art, is it not? And good art to one person can be trash to another.
Today, I received an email from someone who I don’t usually correspond with that often. A poem of sorts was written for me…about me. I was left speechless for a good moment after reading it. It was the first time in my life in which a piece of writing, a piece of art, left me unable to talk, unable to express what I felt. The only word that can possible describe what was going on in my head is perhaps just, “…wow.”
I think one of the things that left me at a loss for words, besides the fact that I was presented with good writing, was perhaps that I was shocked about how much this person knew me…the deeper side of me. To be honest, I’m not terribly close with this person at all…so I’m shocked at the level of depth they seemed to know me. And it made me question…am I that transparent? Actually, I don’t think so. True, my face does not lie. It’s difficult for me to conceal happiness, conceal sorrow, and conceal anger. My face, if one really cares to really look, does tell my story at that moment. But then…I don’t know, maybe I am that transparent, but it’s the unavoidable apathy people have…not wanting to delve deeper that makes it seem like I’m opaque.
I think a lot of times, people are transparent…but we don’t see what needs to be seen because we place a film before our eyes. And we’re afraid to ask questions because we feel like we might be prying into someone’s private business.