17th March 2021
I miss just letting my fingers fiddle with the keys on the keyboard, pressing random notes to express one’s unknown feelings and emotions. Wishing I could run and leave those burdens, but it’s still there and running away is never an option.
I miss just letting my hand move freely as it creates new poetry. Every day, every year, I am always creating a new piece. Being able to feel and see the words in my head and present them to the world.
I miss the person I used to be, but she was always full of negativity and she hardly survived. She was lost, felt at loss, and faced sad endings repeatedly. Her only friends were pen, paper, and words for her poetry. These things have allowed her to indulge in her creativity and feelings, because at the moment, it seemed like she didn’t feel anything.
Honestly, I used to blame the night for me being like this. Because of the darkness, there is fear, and the voices in my head, I hear them clearly. I comfort myself when no one is here. With a pen and a piece of paper, I comforted myself with words of cheer.
But then I remember, there are days where the sun shines so brightly yet there are still words in my sight. After years of writing, I asked myself, “Why can’t I do this right now? Is it because I’m finally alright?”
I once read somewhere, ‘It’s hard to write a poem when you’re happy’. As I stare in the mirror blankly, I wonder, ‘Am I truly happy? Or I’m just feeling empty?’
There are still days where I feel everything is too much and yet, still nothing comes out of it. I blamed myself for what happened. Why do I still run out of words for a proper piece? Isn’t this what I used to love? So why do I feel dissatisfied?
I feel pressured watching those around me succeed doing the things they love and there’s me, feeling like I’ve done nothing, again, only failing.
But then I realized, it is never too late to start again from the beginning. After years of relishing in words to deal with my feelings, there should never be a reason for me to stop writing. Despite possibly losing the sense of poetry, I would never stop writing in the end. I’ll still find ways to express my own feelings for me to heal. So, if I happen to forget again, please remind me to keep on fighting, and never give up writing. Because right now, I won’t give up on them both.
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