To:
Caprice.
I know failure scared you in the past once the ink hit the page—but your faith in God (and your pen) kept you afloat.
Attempting to write a book since July 22nd, 2018—your heart unraveled its thread and chose to sew a new endeavor, despite drifting on the melody of the lonesome river.
You grew frustrated, crying out for a new sheet of paper as your tears welled between the blue lines.
Each dot—line—sketch—and word solely resembled perfection. Except—the blemishes sought freedom and bubbled upon the surface.
You have every fragment looming in your soul—so why weren't you satisfied with your artwork?
Did it not resemble the perfection you hoped to bring to creativity?
From writing poetry to original work to fanfiction—something was missing. You searched for something real, raw, personal with depth—yet, none fit the criteria, and you feared the sword of rejection.
You didn't want to be afraid, but you let your fear of criticism guilt-trip you into thinking you're not good enough.
Thus, how good do you have to be to consider yourself a failure? Maybe I'll never know the goodness that revolves around your mind—nor the creative process of what you do.
But why do you write? Was it to hide from the world and create a safe space?
Or was it to self-express the esteem lost years ago?
Possibly, you wanted someone to talk to and share your endless ideas. And though your drafts collect dust—your dedication, commitment, motivation, determination, encouragement, and inspiration dare to cease.
Nobody loves you the way I do!
Continue weaving masterpieces from your mind, heart, and soul because your art astonishes the kingdom above.
From:
Caprice <3!
