The gate to my creativity has been shut long ago. Schools taught me to stick to patterns, to think in a certain way, not to be – heaven forbid – too original. For some time I cultivated creativity on my own, in the safety of my four walls, closed off from the world and the teachers who’d say I was not allowed to have this type of thoughts. I hid them well in my drawer, for no one to see but me.
So what happened to my creativity then? Where is it now? What about the creations locked in the drawer? Well, I suppose they withered away, unseen, unnourished, forgotten. They died and I let them. I did what I was told and tried my best to ignore the unwelcome thoughts. It didn’t work out too well, but I ignored that too. “That’s for the better,” I told myself. That was the first excuse. Then came the others. “I don’t have time.” “I’m not feeling inspired.” “That’s a stupid idea.” “I’m not good enough.” “I have more serious stuff to deal with.” Sounds familiar? I bet it does.
And now? Now I wish I could find the keys to the rusty gate, but they must be buried somewhere along with all the dead creations in my bottom drawer. Never to be retrieved.
Or am I making excuses again?