The More Vulnerable Your Writing, the More Relatable Your Readers Become

What if aliens came to Earth and took you to their planet?

What if they used Doraemon's Hon'yaku Konnyaku gadget to translate their language and asked you, "Who are you? And where do you come from?"

Would you say your name and your country's name? Or would you say that you are a human and come from Earth?

Thus, at the end of the day, everyone is human, and everyone shares the same emotions. But what is the reason for hiding your thoughts and emotions from yourself just because they don't fall under the morals you follow?

If Freud had thought that the Oedipus and Electra complexes didn't come under the morals humans follow, there would be no theories about these topics today.

Are there any useful reasons to follow morals?

People who don't smoke hate people who do, just because they don't smoke themselves. Their minds automatically start thinking that smoking is a sin.

I'm not saying smoking isn't a bad habit. Of course, it affects your health, just like junk food does. But we don't say that eating junk food is a sin.

Humans are weird. They have their own morals depending on their own experiences because many people justify a rapist when they know the reason why he raped someone.

So, fighting and hurting someone inside a ring for money is a skill, but fighting on the road for the same money is considered violent and disgraceful.

What do you believe, and whose words do you trust?

Because people here think that punishing a rapist or killing him can give justification to the victim, even though they know it won't undo their pain and trauma.

If we kill someone because they killed someone, then what is the difference between the killer and us? is reveange a form of punishment, or is it a desire that arises from a combination of emotions, just like lust?

Taking revenge is sometimes considered as an act of heroism, but a woman expressing her lust is labelled a immoral, shameless or vulgar. One desire and feeling sometimes celebrated while the other is judged and condemned, because we have different standards for judging human emotions.

There are plenty of answers out there to the questions I've asked. Asking questions is simple; it doesn't mean we are clever.

But these are the questions I've had in my mind all these years, and there are many more that I haven't mentioned here.

You may wonder why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry for making you read all of this, but I wanted to tell you that every human has the same thoughts running through their tiny brains. Even you have thought about all these things, haven't you?

That is why I'm saying, the more vulnerable your writings are, the more relatable your readers become.

Creativity demands you to nude your thoughts.

Write what comes to your mind. We really don't know what the audience will or won't accept.

As you do, you may feel cringe sometimes, but humans like to know familiar thoughts that they cannot put into words. Don't think that a topic has already been explored just because someone else has written about it. Your reader may not have explored it yet.

Give them something valuable, something they can share with their loved ones when their chat is getting boring.

Don't take it lightly. Every piece of writing and every work of art is a masterpiece when it finds someone who understands it.

I would like to share a piece of writing that I wrote when I was vulnerable and had no fear of my own thoughts.

The Movie Directed By Nature

To all my memories that don't let me die, If I die, I won't feel the smell of rain on a summer evening.

I let my table fan spin like a sweet melody on a summer night in April, and take my seat to watch the movie directed by nature.

The moon looks half and beautiful, like a bindi on a woman's forehead. Today, he has a friend with him, a little friend who looks brighter than him, stealing his show, huh?

From a distance, a divine song was playing in the temple. Oh, now God wants to watch the movie with me?

I have no hope in God because I don't know who he is, but why is he with me in my alone time, in my sad days, in my boring days, and in my happy days?

He doesn't need language to talk with me. He doesn't have a body or a face to impress me. He doesn't have a gender. So, I will assign him as a boy because my human acquaintances say a girl should love a boy.

Did they create you because you and I have to share love? Or did you create them because you want to exist in my days, to be with me like a stalker, like a caretaker who watches my pain and says nothing, like a parent without fighting, like a lover without expectations, like a friend without the emotions of a roller coaster? But why?

Who made you selfish? Only because you accepted everything they say?

They made you wear what they like. They made you say what they want you to say. They made you control because they wanted to control us.

Why are you so pure, innocent, and lovable, but they made you talk about morality, and now they hate you? They see you as an enemy and give you a name to hate.

That breaks my heart, but you never showed a single sign of sadness to me. You never cried in front of me like I do because you know it would hurt me more than anything.

Do my tears hurt you?

I don't have a clue about you, so I choose kindness over hate, like you do.

I will follow you without a command. I will devote myself to you without wishes or desires. In exchange, I take you as my soul and make myself a God.

You will be within me, and you will spread love within me so my innocent lover can see you now.

He can feel you now. He can kiss you and adore you. He can take care of you, and we both love him and consider him our son.

Now, watch a movie with me.

The ticket is free, but we have to watch it with my mosquito friends. They won't stop talking and asking questions about the film. It feels annoying, and they won't smile with us, but it feels lonely when they are not around me.

Are they better than my dream boy?

What happened? Where is the melody of our divine song?

It's silent…

I can hear the sound of dry leaves on my neighbour's terrace. They left home long ago. It looks lonely, but he still has his friends. They are singing a beautiful song together.

Seems like the movie has already started.

The song of insects on summer nights is a blessing. The wind is kissing my hair without a break. It seems like the dry leaves are jealous and are joining the party of insects to impress me.

How good it looks…

Without lights, it will look clearer.

Someone is burning dry wood. I like the smell of smoke. The ghosts of wood don't scare me. They make the place peaceful and serene to spend time with myself.

How would it be if he were with me now?

God, answer me!!

No mosquitoes.

They fear the smell of wood. It seems like they have already left because the film is over.

I know God is still here, but he won't answer.

He is really shy, like my lover, so I will please him.

THANK YOU FOR READING.

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