We Are Flawed

If I continue to write this much, one day I will be surrounded by a room that has nothing but hard disc drives and broken promises. Some people want to write and coax out every word and letter with a desperation that seeps out from every sentence. Others have it easy and have the poetry flow to their fingers when the need be, perfuming the papers like flowers to rain. The rest, like me, write when they don’t have time to do so, and don’t when they do. The cursed people. Those who only have inspiration when they are forced to put them to waste.

Writing soothes me. I’ve probably said it a million times. It makes time pass quicker, makes things become insignificant and helps qwell the bubbles of emotions I cannot control. Writing is the only thing I can do better when I am drunk, it is the only thing whose prowess is magnified when I’m sad, it is the only thing that keeps me sane when the world confounds me. Writing is like therapy. Depressed? Lonely? Feeling dizzy? Prescribe yourself a doze of writing and a lot of imagination. You’ll feel better after the first word.

People say the ability to write is a flair. No it isn’t. Writing takes practice, and practice equates reading. Writing also equates to music since you need your words to take on a certain rhythm and eventually form a melody. And writing also equates knowledge since you cannot create analogies out of thin air. It is also creativity since sometimes you have to make believe, and it’s also one part the ability to feel alot, cos writing is all about forcing your thoughts into the minds of others. In a sense, writing needs you to be okay at many things. You need to be okay at listening to music, in recognising beats and melodies. You need to be okay in seeing the world and remember things. Not necessarily perfectly, but remember the intriguing parts anyway. It requires you to be okay at crying at the littlest things and smiling at nothing, it requires you to be okay at letting your emotions go. It requires to be OK with everything, but perfect at nothing. Cos perfect people can’t be writers. Writers are flawed.

The best thing about writing? You can write and if it isn’t that good, people will ignore you. And when you’re good, people will still ignore you. That’s when you’re doing it right. That’s when you know you’re writing for things that matter not to others, but to yourself. And the feeling of being ignored after you’ve put your life story and all your thoughts into a single post? It’s incredible. It’s like liberation on a micro scale. A micro, but equally awesome scale.

To New Beginnings

There will come one day where you will forget the sound of keys chattering beneath your fingers, the feeling of fullness when words fill you up, the satisfaction of seeing black ink on blank canvas. There will come one day where you cannot remember how, what or why. There will come one day where you hit rock bottom and have to start all over again. And what will come as a surprise is that you’ll actually feel okay.

Letting go of everything that keeps you anchored is scary. It is more than scary. It is frightening, petrifying. It is the first time someone took away your safety blanket. But letting go of everything that validates you also makes you hungry. It is a kind of hunger that reeks of desperation, and desperation is a good thing. It makes you want to learn, it makes you want to lap up knowledge like a starving stray cat. It lets you put yourself out there with zero remuneration, it humbles you, liberates you and reminds you that as much as you are something, you are also nothing.

It is okay to start over. It is okay to leave things unfinished and start brand new even if it means you spend week after week wallowing in tears, hopelessness and unworthiness. Because when they begin fade away, you are fearless, famished and so much better than you ever were.