That which is true to art, can it be as true to life?
A friend had once sent me an angry letter. I had upset her. My primary reaction to the words were equal anger. How could she relate all these horrible things to me? Doesn't she think of me as a human equal in pain? However, as I reread her letter, it surprised me how beautiful her writing was. Her anger was an absolute piece of art!
That started me thinking on how my generation of Saudis are mostly sad. Something had befallen us, here, there, and everywhere; a high level of dissatisfaction. Writers or no writers, we are seeking liberation through the word! But consider this:
If we are too sad about many things, socially, politically, religiously, etc, and find no better way of expressing our sadness other than writing. If that writing is regenerated from previous works of fiction (non-fiction is a bore that we mostly read in school.) So, if our sadness becomes yet another work of art, could it ever be true to life? Our life?
Sadness is a very dangerous state of being, especially if it sweeps over an entire generation:
- A sad person is egoistic; her entire emotions are sensitized, and thus she has no ability to feel what is beyond her suffering.
- A sad person must push back love, or doubt it to the highest of levels because emotional fulfillment is impermissible.
- A sad person is full of blame; the others become the enemy who contributes to her suffering.
- A sad person forms blind truths in her isolation, such as being damned with the worst of fates, and the severest of situations.
- A sad person forms a strong attachment to her state of sadness, to the point where she refuses to let go of it. Eventually, she begins to feed her life with more drama, and to manipulate characters around her in order for them to be relevant to her story line.
Without knowing it, an entire generation competes in a “sadist” performance, hurting itself under the theme of “I am sadder than you, so sit back and watch me prove it!”