It’s been a while since I have written, and although I am trying hard to come up with a topic to write about today, I cant. I don’t know what I have got to say about my life or the surroundings or the situations in life. All I know is that my love for writing is creeping back in.
The need to express, the need to have my words read by others, the need for others to relate to my words, and the need to make a difference are coming back! I want to say things and envision myself as the writer; I once dreamt of being, and I want to make someone’s day or a minute by giving them something that moves them a little. It’s not easy for me to start writing again. There is a lot of baggage, a fear of judgment and making mistakes, and a feeling of weakness in a way that may be I am using writing as a means to relieve some of the stress or the inadequacy I have in my life. My mind is cluttered, my days are full, and my responsibilities don’t leave me any time to sit quietly for a minute; it’s just too chaotic for me to relax and write. But, I have a feeling, a one that’s not disappearing. Someone or something inside me is telling me that – this is it! This is your chance to start working towards your dream or happiness; this is the turning point. If you lose this chance, it will be challenging to go on and find peace anywhere else on this earth.
Not just me, but maybe family needs this too. My sanity is probably dependent on this. And the need to be heard requires me to start making space for writing, putting discipline and structure to it. It is hard; it is tough for me, but I am going to try.
If I find my long-gone solace and peace in writing and expressing, I may be able to regulate my emotions better. Maybe I can regain control of my happiness, which currently depends on other people and situations. I need this mechanism to work; I need my writing to be a replica of everything I want to say about myself and the world.
Nothing relaxes me anymore, not the smokes, not the sex, not the booze, or not the lovely time with my daughter, and a few days ago, I realized even solo travel doesn’t calm me anymore. Maybe I am a shitty writer who knows necessary English, but I am a storyteller, and I want to bring that storyteller to the front now. She has been struggling to survive for too long; it’s time to show her some light and give her some muscles.
Let’s see where this goes!