I haven’t been posting lately because 1.) I’ve busy with work and my personal life, 2.) My days were just packed with activities that I hardly find time to blog, and 3.) Unfortunately, I think I lost for a few weeks, my will to write.
But now I think I owe it to myself that I write. I used to love writing so much. Well, I think I still do. The burning passion may have dwindled down a bit, or maybe just lost somewhere inside me, but I know it’s still there.
For others, it maybe photography, or painting, or dance. But for me, it’s in words. It’s in words that I tell the world my life.
My good friend Jean linked an article a few weeks ago about why that author writes. It struck me. I must admit that there was a time I wanted to write to get noticed. I know there’s nothing wrong with that. Others write solely because of that reason. But I’d like to believe that I have far better reasons than that.
I write because this is how I best express myself. It’s weird because I never joined press conferences in elementary. In fact, I was more of a speaker, joining interschool competitions in declamation, oration, newscast, what have you. But it is in writing that I fully tell everyone what I want to.
Maybe because there’s more chances for correction and review in writing. That’s why the saying “think before you speak” was coined. Because once you tell something, it is already recorded in the minds of those who hear it. But when writing, you can review and correct your piece before you let others read it. Also, you can check if you’ve written everything you need and want to.
I write in many forms. Free-verse, prose, short stories, songs. I write based on my mood and my emotions. Sometimes, I can better pour out my emotions in a poem than in a blog entry. Sometimes, I put all my frustrations in a story — because most of the time, it is easier for these frustrations and problems to be solved in paper than in real life.
I guess that’s the main reason why I write — emotions. That’s what makes my writings personal. I can write about the end of the world but if I don’t feel anything about it then it would just be useless compared to writing about a crappy movie that made me so angry that I decided to blog about it. Then that would be worth it.
When I write, I let a piece of myself out for the public to see. It’s not about being popular. It’s about being heard. And it’s about knowing that somehow, what I write may bring change to another person’s life. It is also my gauge on how my life has changed
The fire may burn out, the passion may run dry sometimes, but one should never stop writing. Write even if you feel it’s not there anymore. Write until you find that thing inside you that made you write the first time.
I ask myself why I write and I always get this simple answer. I write because I love to. Whether people reads or understand, I don’t even care. I write for myself. Because it makes me happy. Because it calms my anger. Because it levels my insanity. Because it comforts my sadness. And because it’s the only thing I got, when all else fails.