You realise you haven’t changed a bit, preach the world of how life is to be lived, under a delusion of a transformation, a new enthusiasm. A small expectation slaps you back to reality. Now lament.
Nothing external can change your core values. Nothing outside can scoop those insecure voices in your head into a soft hug and cradle them quiet. What you are left with are recalled nightmares, hollowness, and more expectations. And it breaks the fragile heart. Continue reading “Voices In Her Head”→
I have always been a VERY insecure person. And yes, I shamelessly admit it. I have been insecure about the way I look, about how I am usually rotting alone in the classroom (Not anymore, I have the most awesome weirdo squad!) about everything around me!
I even think I am much of a Gilderoy Lockhart in what I write. Borrowed, shiny words of other adventurous experiencers! (I am pretty sure that is(n’t) a word. Aren’t you? And if let to continue, I know I can go on forever about how badly I suck at pretty much everything. I’m my own roast master!
But I have faith in me. I know I will get better over time. I know what I write is becoming more and more ME by the day. From a liquid that takes shape of the container to becoming a firm solid on dynamic surfaces, I have faith.
From getting original to this blog and getting the hang of original design thinking. What you write is what you leave behind. A piece of your intellect, a part of your soul. You are still alive through your work. (No Horcrux needed.) Only you make you YOU. The more the time with yourself you spend, the more authentic a person you become. The person inside is eager to come out. Give her a chance. Break free.
To some of us, writing comes naturally. To some others, it is a forced habit. But what motivates anyone to write is that we are about to leave a permanent mark on the world which defines our individuality, the essence of our being.
My experiments with this amazing form of expression, started with the diary entries of a silly tween, mid teen became my punchbag until I realized what it had come to become. An ego massage for cowards not bold enough to confront. And then I began again. And again. (Oh this is my third.)
But now, the page has been turned, the old chapter closed. Here, my journey begins. And I make a commitment. Along the way, sharing the silliest, craziest, most embarrassing stories of a ranter.