Causticly Created

caus·tic   /ˈkɔstɪk/
–adjective
1. capable of burning, corroding, or destroying living tissue.
2. severely critical or sarcastic: a caustic remark.

So, I was thinking earlier. And I'm pretty sure it was some deep thought. But I don't remember what it is, anymore.

Beyond that, there is something in particular I'd like to point out. People, people everywhere, people in general, people who are different, people who try to act like their peers, people who care and people who don't, people, we tend to forget something. And that is the small matter of how little other people notice the things we think are such a big deal.

Really. Artists see the smudge in the right hand corner, and no matter how much we care, all we really see is this picture they've presented us with. We'll never see it in as much detail as they do; we didn't make it. We didn't put anything into it. We are simply viewing it through our own little filter.

Singers hear the catch in their voice two verses in, the listener hears a catchy tune, listens to it a few times and, like with any other song they've ever heard, moves on. The listener likes the song, or doesn't, and chances are they'll probably not come right out with either opinion, because honestly, to them it's just a song. Even if it's a really, really good song.

There is no way around it. No one will ever be completely and totally satisfied with something of their own creation. They might accept it, they might be proud of it. But chances are, they will always be aware of the fact that, in their opinion, it could be better. Or just simply different. Or maybe they think it shouldn't exist at all.

And no matter how much someone loves the creator, they will never be able to fully comprehend the care and devotion that the creator put into their creation. For them, it will simply be something. Something amazing, something cute, something funny, something done well. Maybe even something tragically terrible (but shh, mustn't say so). But it's just a something. And they'll forget about it long before the creator does.

Because that's how we work. Everyone's thinking about their own things. Everyone's worrying about what others are thinking about themselves. Honestly, if you walk outside with your hair all messy, no one's going to care but you (and maybe your mother, if she's in a bad mood). And even if someone does point at you and laugh, I bet a whole lot that they'll forget they did that long before you get over it. Is that worth the ten minutes it took to fix it in a 'presentable' fashion?

So if you like painting, paint. And if you sing off-tune, sing all the louder. And if you enjoy writing, write, no matter what useless garbage is coming from your fingertips. Because it came from you. At some point, somewhere along the line, whatever you make, it was because that's how you felt, or that's what you saw, or you found something to aim for. And if you have someone to show, great. And if you don't, you know what? It really doesn't matter. Because that person probably didn't care half as much about being shown as you cared about showing them. So show your best friend or show your pillow and make yourself happy.

Be creative. Do things that make you smile. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks about you and concentrate on what you think. It's a whole lot more important than most of the other things you spend your time daydreaming about. Spend some time getting to know the person everyone else only glances at. Because at the end of the day, you're only stuck with yourself. Everyone else is home with the exact same problem.

Hating what you create is a lot like hating who you are. If you don't like it, change it. And if you can't change it, learn to appreciate the unbearable. The only person who is actually forced to put up with you is you. And if you don't like who that is, how can you expect the people around you to want to put up with it?

Let go, be who you want to be, decide to be happy and live life for the right reasons. And whatever deep thought I had earlier is just going to have to wait for another time because I've definitely ranted enough for one millennium.