Things have been happening quite suddenly in my life.
Overnight, I chose the career I’m pursuing today. It was a week that took us to decide moving from a place we’d forever lived in. And a few months is all that made me change my perspective about stuff so drastically.
Writing in a personal blog is something I despised, avoided and denied. When I always had somewhere to write, somebody to talk to, I never got the point in putting up my messed thoughts for everyone to read. But again, I suddenly decided to start a blog last night and never waited to think again.
So, here I am.
The idea of a blog was chasing me for a long time. I never considered it seriously because I could never think of anything that I’d want to share so openly. Yesterday, though, everything surprisingly looked so clear. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with a blog. It was as if I’d always known, just that I didn’t realize.
Lately, I’ve had major problems expressing myself. I’m unable to talk to people. I’ve become vague with my speech and I feel disconnected with my own words. I’ve tried to say how crappy I feel, how miserably time is treating me and how much I need somebody to hold me together. But I just can’t. It never worked out whenever I tried to. So I entirely gave it up.
I write. And I write a lot. I’m almost always writing, and I always feel like writing when I’m not. It’s not only because I love to write, it is because writing is the very reason of my being what I am. It’s a relief, an escape and a way of life. If there is one word that defines me, it’s poetry. I might not be so good at it, but it is like breath and blood for me.
I’ve had so much to say and write about. But ironically, my diaries are blank. I’ve not been able to write. I begin a verse and leave it unfinished. I know what I want to write, but I give it up as soon as I hold the pen. My sentences don’t meet full stops. All those cluttered pieces of paper I’ve scribbled on, don’t make any sense.
I feel like I’m blind. And lost.
It’s frustrating and depressing. I want to write and I need to write. I don’t care how I’m judged. I never did. I really have to let it out, ’cause my heart has become too heavy to carry anymore.
I try not to let people know what I feel. My face and actions rarely betray my emotions. I bottle up. Not by choice but by virtue of who I am. And it was never a problem when I could write and had this one person to share stuff with. But now, I am unable to write. And I’m so far away from this only person I could confide in with anything and everything. I’ve been bottling up for so long now.
And evidently, since I’m so full, I am bursting to write.
The result being this blog. I don’t know how much of what I just wrote makes sense. But I guess, I needed to write this.