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Black Type With Silver Linings
I think Silver Linings and Empathy are made of the same stuff
My silver linings are usually shaped like letters on a page. They drip from reality like raindrops, they strike the page like lightning bolts.
The confused moments, the sad situations, the hurtful conversations, and the frustrating regrets get scribbled down, typed up, edited and re-edited, relabeled with the silver pen. Ironically, my experiences became more malleable when I distilled them into black and white.
In journal entries titled Dear Diary, in short stories for school and contests, in Word documents no one read, and in Medium posts with titles and subtitles. Whatever happened, happened to find the page, and in the written words, I could, eventually, find perspective if not sense — a lesson to be learned. Some scenes are senseless no matter how much we analyze them, but even when writing as an exercise to exorcise, words can fuel and fertilize, find a different perspective, a shimmering, silver outline.
Sometimes, the silver lining is simply the distance from the distressing situation. It’s words that accumulate on pages like a clock marking seconds. You look upon the words and acknowledge the time that’s passed, that life goes on, that you are and aren’t the same person. “I was bullied, but I changed…
