Blog Post: Michaela Yearwood-Dan

I never kept a diary, until I started writing to you.

I never saw the need. Why share my secrets? Why recount every last thing? Vulnerability is weak, no?

I sit and I think about the past. The high-rises, the mountains, the sea, the flags blowing in the wind blending into the same shade of fleshy pink. Those coincidental meet cutes and late-night conversations that glow with rose-tinted hues.

Why hold on to the darkness in this already overcast life?

I never kept a diary, until I realised I was writing to you.

I didn’t know I was doing it. I think I’d shatter into a thousand little jagged-shaped, hard-shelled, soft-centred pieces if anyone saw you. Embarrassed and bare.

I used you. I used you to calm my mind, to stop me from impulsive outbursts, to force me to face him, her, them.

Essentially I used you to get to know me. And you had no choice but to listen.

“You’re such a strong, independent [black] woman”

Well I guess I shouldn’t cry then. Shouldn’t let things hurt me, shouldn’t wallow, shouldn’t love, shouldn’t live, shouldn’t open my arms, my mind, my heart, my legs? Can’t be that strong woman you talk of as vulnerable right?

Fuck it.

I cry, I feel, I hurt and I paint the passion, the pain, the past, the present, the progression until I’m honest when I say “I’m doing fucking great mate”.

I never kept a diary, until I started writing to you.

Vulnerability is weak? No.

Michaela Yearwood-Dan: BNC17 Artist Page