Selecting a new and interesting topic on which to write each week can be difficult.
This week it wasn’t.
This week it was possibly the most simple it’s ever been: I simply sat before the glowing monitor, I simply struck the keys one by one, I simply allowed the work to grow naturally; I simply allowed myself to become increasingly worked up until…
The article that poured out of me almost a week ago, simply, is not fit for human consumption.
It was entitled, Mit Reklaw’s Raw, and it was just that. Honest, open, frank, brutal, angry, revealing, passionate and filthy; skinless and uncooked. It was raw. Furthermore at the time that I wrote it, not only did I feel raw, I also felt like having a roar. All in all, the title couldn’t be faulted. It was the content that made this piece so horrendous.
Curiously its conception took place on a glorious Saturday morning. After a leisurely breakfast accompanied by friendly shafts of early morning sun, I felt as though nothing could break me.
Not two hours after entertaining this notion, I recall looking back and wondering how I could have been so naïve, so idiotically presumptuous.
The sad thing is, blissful golden sunlight notwithstanding, the fracturing process began shortly after breakfast then not even one hour into digestion, I was broken.
This was a peculiar, if not uncharacteristic phenomenon. Over the years I have grown so very accustomed to hardship that ordinarily it takes a terrible lot of shit happening to bring me down. Alas, that wonderful Saturday morning with its perfect weather, its butterflies fluttering over dewy grass, its birds chirruping in trees – that morning with its incipient buds and nascent blooms, managed to crush my spirit well before midday.
Pathetic as it sounds, life along with all its inherent duties and commitments just climbed on top of me. My brain being what it is, this tends to manifest a smothering effect. The only two breathing holes I’ve located are, one: exercise – which I was already doing; two: writing – which I had yet to do.
Mit Reklaw’s Raw is over 2000 words and contains much talk of failure and devastation, futility and depression; filth and destruction – also I believe there was some mention of suicidal ideation.
Ha, some mention. Come on. I think there was actually a fair bit of that.
The aforementioned excerpt was written in a fit of fury. I didn’t think, I just wrote. The first edit took some time. It was a mess. Once I had it coherent and reasonably fluent, I read it through again, made a few changes, read it over once more then satisfied that I had assuaged my irate temperament, left it to mature.
On my return I was aghast to see what had so effortlessly oozed from my head only hours earlier. I will admit, it did make a number of valid points but ultimately, it was ugly. In fact it was the most ill favoured piece of writing to which I had ever forgotten to attach my name.
It was at this point that I decided that it must never be seen by anyone.
Just prior to hitting Delete on five highlighted pages however, I did attach it to an Email and send it to one person – so who knows, it might turn up yet…
Article by Mit Reklaw
Edited by Laifyss A Quest
Photography by Ivana B Arr-Ghost