There used to be a time, not so long ago, (well actually…pretty long ago), when I would write out my agony, the emotions that defined me. It was the inception of my relationship with poetry. Oh the sweet, sweet years of teenage, where every emotion that you feel is as high as heaven, as fiery as hell – the love, the heart breaks, the hopes, the angst – feelings that almost always conveyed eternal doom to a reader unknown. It was a beautiful relationship I shared with my own emotions, without any realization of it.
On the contrary, my essays at school were filled with imagination, and hope, and the higher philosophies of life. Another beautiful relationship I shared with my mind, oblivious to me.
In hindsight, this should’ve been my first sign that my life will be anything but linear!
Sadly, I don’t think I understood the value or complexity of my own writing.
Not so sadly, that didn’t stop me from continuing to write.
My life is exposed on bits and scraps of papers, notes, notebooks, the internet even. In doing so, I’ve somehow managed to document the essence of it all. I’ve turned to words at every moment in my life, big or small, (even seemingly so). Yet, not until recently have I become aware of my purpose in doing so.
I’ve lived my life in words, others’ and mine alike. That right there is the realization for me – the shared experience of it all – created, curated.
I’ll never write for anyone but myself, it’s what makes my relationship with my writing true to me. But I’ll never stop sharing my story either. For I hope, that someone, anyone, who comes across the scraps of my mind, my life, will feel the joy, the comfort, of a connection made through a shared experience, just as I have, many a times in reality and fantasy, along the way, as I scrambled and wandered, to learn about myself, know myself, understand myself, not judge myself, instead, just be myself.
On this path of self-discovery, through words written or read, my own or others’, my writing has evolved, as have I. And so, yet again, my writing teaches me another valuable lesson.
Just as I can’t go back to writing poems of doom that felt so true to me then, I should also not try to go back to being someone I am not, who doesn’t feel true to me now.
I stay still, I wander /
I live, I learn /
I resist, I surrender /
I live, I learn /
I go through trials and tribulations, and revel in realizations /
I accept, I let go, and all the way along I grow /
I go back, I go forth, I change my path mid-course /
I let myself be, I pause just to see, I write to relieve /
All my life I wrote, the thoughts I could emote /
One thought stayed all along, telling me to keep going on /
Live, learn, write…make way for life/
And so as I go on, I go forth…I live, I learn, I write //