I won’t lie. School is getting super busy and I can definitely see myself struggling to maintain my daily posting schedule in the near future. If things get a little sloppy, please forgive me.
In line with that, I might recycle some of my old work now and then – especially pieces that many of you haven’t had a chance to see. So, without further ado, here’s something I wrote towards the end of last year:
Writing, for personal reasons or otherwise, has always been a great source of comfort to me in difficult times – like a close friend who neither judges you nor gives unwanted advice, but is always there to listen and understand. I love writing because it allows you to pour your feelings onto a page and see them reflected back at you through a different lens. It’s just about the only way I’ve ever been able to sort things out in my head.
However, this has not and may not always be the case. The truth is that writing forces you to be to be alone with your thoughts. When you’re in a positive frame of mind, that can yield spectacular results. You’re able to build entire, beautiful worlds inside your head and pour out pearls of wisdom. On the other hand, when you’re at your lowest, everything you write can feel sticky and slimy in your hands. Journaling can become an extremely self-critical exercise. If you’re writing fiction, your character’s flaws may seem to cast spotlights onto your own shortcomings and just like that, something you love to do can become a knife wedged into your skin.
But, I’ve realised of late that the minute you put down your pen, a part of yourself goes with it. You never truly let go of the things you love. Anything you pour your heart into, every letter, every word, is valuable. No matter how it feels in the moment, you will look back at the words you’ve strung together and either feel incredibly proud of them or you will have learnt something from them.
So, keep writing. Keep learning.