Writing, one thing I hated before.

As a kid, I always avoided holding a pen. I was one of those kids, who would rather play all day outside. I was lazy, and always saw writing as a very long boring task. At school, I would rather read and remember than put words on a paper. But of course, that wasn’t always possible. Writing is necessary.

Years passed and I still hated writing. The fact that I have the worst handwriting, made me hate it even more. It was third or fourth grade when I started to enjoy scribbling and tried drawing things I saw. I grew fond of it more and more, as days passed. One day, I drew two “stickpeople” facing each other. I stared at them for a moment, and wondered why they were so quiet. That’s when I made one said “hi” and the other one “hello. how are you?” or something like that. That was the time when somehow the writing fairy spirnkled some magic dust on me. I enjoyed how the two stickpeople talked. I started drawing and writing more conversations of stickpeople and even inanimate objects.

Things just happened magically and I loved writing short essays, poems and stories. Somehow that hate and despair, whenever I hold a pen, disappeared. I would write and write even if my sentences are weak and grammatically incorrect. I didn’t care as long as I finish the story.

High school came, and a lot of things came with it. My world grew larger. A lot of stuffs, I learned. I wrote every happy memories I experienced. But of course, it wasn’t always smiles and laughs. Sadness and anger was always present too. I remember whenever I feel sad, alone or angry, I would always try to write even if my mind was in chaos. I would write what I felt and tears would just drop on the paper. I’m not an open person and I always feel cringy whenever I tried sharing my problems and feelings to people. So, my and notebook were the only things I have during those dark days.

Now that I’m writing this, it’s funny and somehow ironic that the thing I hated before is a part of my life now. That, the thing I always avoided doing, somewhat helped passed through the struggles in my life.

One sad thing though, is that I chose a different course / major in college. But still, writing was always there. And now, I’m practicing even more to make my writing good and grammatically correct. It’s never too late to do what you love .

Sweats trickled down my body as I walk up the stairs. Slowly making steps with fuzzy sight of what’s ahead. As I reached the third floor, I watched up the next set of stairs. Lights flickered, sweats trickled more. I climbed up the last step and took a deep breath. I walked along the small corridor leading to the top balcony. My vision was getting dark and more blurry. A cool breeze kissed my face and memories started flowing in my mind. Useless, lazy, incompetent, weak.. these words rang inside me as loud as a fire alarm. I took a step forward, now I’m at the edge, high above the low ground. Tears started flowing down. One step, and all of this will end. One step and I will at last be at peace. No more pain, no more sadness.

I walked along the park to clear my mind. As I sat at the bench, I saw a damsel in distress , stuck in a tree, calling for her knight in shining armour to come. A few minutes later, the knight was fighting a witch beside the tree. He struggled but still killed the witch. The damsel was rescued and they lived happily ever after.

I took my notebook from my bag together with, my pen. As the point touched the paper, the damsel , the knight and the witch all disappeared. A white flash devoured my eyes. As I open them again, I wasn’t in the park anymrore. I was sitting in a room of white, with only a chair and a desk inside. As I tried to touch my pen, I couldn’t. It’s like an invisible shield was keeping it away from it. I pushed and struggled to take the pen but still failed. I screamed and screamed. Then, I realized, I’m the words and stories in my mind, struggling inside, yearning to escape and be together with me, the pen and paper. I continued screaming, then a cackling voice stopped me. The walls became transparent and a spotlight flashed on the other side. The witch appeared with the wrinkled grin and laughed fiendishly...

That’s my version of writer’s block.

Ladies.Girls.Mother.Daughter.

Names and labels doesn’t matter.

In this cruel world we live in,

Discrimination and abuses, you are forced to take in.

They call you fat, they call you skinny

Flaws are pointed even it’s teeny tiny

They call you names, they judge what you wear

They do things to you that are hard to bear

Some guys are assholes, they abuse you

They think they’re the alpha, but you know it’s not true

They tempt you, then hurt you

But all this is nothing , if you know what you can do

A word of advice, I can offer

Stand up straight, chin up and show them you have power

Speak out your voice, speak what you think

Ignore those labels, they’ll just make you shrink

Don’t let a man define you

Just be who you are.

“I forgot my umbrella”, said a boy.

“I don’t care. Go get it yourself”, his friend replied with an irritated tone. “Okay, I’ll get it”.

Right after the boy turned, thunder cackled up in the sky. Moments later, the rain poured heavily.

“Wait!”, the boy turned and saw his friend walking towards him.

“I’ll come with you.” said the boy’s friend as he approached him.

“It’s okay. I’ll share it with you, even if you only care whenever you need something.” , the boy smiled and walked away.

There she layed in the soft white bed.

Lights are off, but she is awake.

Murmuring, no... sobbing

She rolled, then faced the ceiling

She tried to smile

But tears left her eyes, falling down her face

She wondered why she was like that,

Then she remembered

An image of her beloved kissing another woman.

Something inside her was broken, shattered into pieces.

The feeling was familiar, yet it was strange

This is pain, she thought.

Tears kept falling from her lonely eyes

Problems are part of life. They are teachers. Why? Because as we experience them in our daily lives, we are challenged and put on the test on how to solve them. We are obliged to gain knowledge of things in order to solve the problems. Therefore, after encountering problems, we learn new things out of it. We gain knowledge and wisdom. Without problems we won't be encouraged to learn something new that can help us through the journey of life. Problems teaches us lessons. It enhances us, not destroy us.