Posted in Creative Writing, Thoughts

An Open Letter #1: Blue

Dear friend

It’s one of those days where I don’t know what to write about. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. It’s quite the opposite. There’s so much going on in the world right now. So many bad things. Good things as well, I suppose, if we look hard enough. There are also many things happening in my personal life – many good and bad things. But what do I say about them?

It feels as if everything is trying to rush out of me all at once, but there’s only a small outlet – only a few places I can put my thoughts, only a few people who will listen. So, instead of everything gushing out at once, my thoughts are dripping out of me as if from a leaky tap. Uncontrollably, albeit in small doses.

This inability to articulate and regulate my thoughts makes me feel as if I’ve failed somehow.

“How can you call yourself a writer if you can’t express yourself with words?”

I have thoughts like these sometimes – thoughts of inadequacy. I have them more often than I’d like to admit. But, these thoughts feel less lonely than they did before. At first, they were grey, like the sky before a storm, but I think the storm has passed now. Everything feels a little lighter than before, a little calmer, as if dawn is approaching. Everything is turning blue – the colour of sadness, but also of tranquillity and hope.

I’d call that progress.

I’m still not sure if I should send you this letter. I’m not sure if you’ll read it. Maybe some things are better kept hidden away in journals. Only, I’ve already taken all this time to write you…

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well and I hope there are blue skies ahead for you. I feel dawn approaching.

Take care,


Life in Memories

Most of us won’t have biographies written about us someday. Most of us don’t want that. We’d prefer a quiet life, one where we are content. Still, even though our life story may not end up in print, it’s a story that will be written all the same – in memories. Make sure your story is one you can fall in love with.


Why do we write?

I started writing because it was cathartic, an escape from a troubling reality. However, the more I see of the world, the more I’m starting to think that we should use our writing to give a voice to those who do not have one. If they want us to, it’s our responsibility to tell their stories.