As a child, I've always kept a diary and made sure to document everything that happened to me and everything I ever thought of. The more I continued doing it, the more I realized I am unable to function otherwise. Whenever I would unintentionally ignore the words that need to flow out, my insides would get so stubborn that they would refuse to pave the way for anything else out. The more the words stay inside, the more they weigh me down. And so it slowly started becoming a necessity rather than just a preference.
I write to watch myself grow. Going through my writing pieces over the years always exposes so many of the things I have outgrown without even realizing. One of my favorite self-invented definitions of maturity is: being able to reread my old writings without rushing to edit their every word. Because despite my writing style and preferences constantly changing, I finally realize that each piece is meant to carry certain parts of me forever.
Writing also helps me heal. It helps me heal from things I thought would disappear, if only I stay silent about them. They don’t.
Every time I’m able to describe something happening inside, I physically feel the pain making its way out. And every time I turn a thought into a word, the voices pause and take a deep breath. And every time I spot the tears in between my lines, there comes a sentence that gently wipes them away.
Sometimes I write to bring people back. Sometimes I write to continue conversations I never had. Sometimes I write to come up with my own closures for realities that abruptly end so bad. And sometimes I write to talk myself out of things I would otherwise fail to understand.
I write about people. Those who bring light into my life, as they continue to hold space for every version of me they come across. And those I’ve had to part ways with, while my heart still burns over their loss.
I write to people. I write letters to people who’ll never receive them. I never send them out. It’s almost like I secretly wish the universe would, somehow, send over my words to those I write them for, without me having to hear myself say them.
I write to connect with people. To hold their hands through the distance, and let them know they’re never alone, at any given instant.
P.S. I automatically like you if being around you inspires more of my words out. 🙂
Find everything I write about below:
Things Therapy Taught Me
Spiritual Insights
On Moving Abroad
Inside My Head
Cheesiness Alert
February 16, 2020
Quarantine Thoughts
Notes-to-self
The Artist's Way
On Writing