Yet I’m still afraid
There is a thing that I keep stalking without any results, don’t worry, is not a person. It’s the experience of certain feeling.
I haven’t wrote a word since I got too little to use from my own imagination that uses the tag “boring” for all the things I do. I hate the “boredom” fact on my life, the “uncertain” about my future. Today I’m healthy, tomorrow on a hospital bed thinking where I messed up.
And over all, an empty shell looking for stuff to stuff inside. Anything that lasts more than a lifetime would be greatly received.
I write in the middle of the night, because I’m done with today’s to-do, my time to re-think about the things that have me worried.
I remember an exam where it said “write your own recipe for happiness”, I hope I have written truth or rather sarcasm. Because I really need that one when I write.
Having a recent scar, led me to relate that to many things on my life. My love matters, my boredom stuff, my happiness standing by its own.
I even joke with my internal void, the lacking piece, the excuse for the dark circles around my eyes.
And I’m still afraid this will last if I let it last.
Many
My weaknesses are many and plenty. Starting off with the other things I do first before writing. I do wander a lot trying to write. Then, it comes strongly and mighty, my vocabulary. It's very short compared to what I would like you to read. You see, I love using complex synonyms, unused words from the past. I do that when I write without worrying who is reading, because just one or two or none and I'm happy with it. Their comments are most valuable than a hundred strangers who like your writing just by its beauty but not by the message hidden between my words. I'm such a weird person but that's where I feel okay. They say get out of your comfort zone, do more. Get out off your comfort zone first, then talk and talk loudly with property.
My strengths are my good concentration when I'm willing to write and my writing takes my mind completely. The flow of words are amazing. With a good playlist, my mind has more to offer and suddenly my characters starts talk by their own, making their own paths. My work is guide them to where I want them to go and they go. Nice and neat.
I don’t walk by quality but feeling
If I walked with quality, my life would be nicer, smiling, kind. My words would be more engaging. My feelings would go by, saying hi.
But I'm not, I write when I'm feeling down, when the time comes along, usually at midnight when my past ghost haunt me.
Half of me firmly believes I have no regrets in life, that my life is what it is because of my actions and I have to accept its consequences.
The other half cries in a corner, every night, silent in my heart. Regretting all the good things I lost because of my stubbornness.
For those who I follow...
Even if I don't mark your little poems and writing, I always read whatever you posted. I'm amazed with one of you guys, so old yet your writing feels like a young man speaking. (I thought you were thirty-something). Also the people who likes what I write, even though English isn't my native language. (I feel like I apply the way of writing of my own language).
I always thought about you guys knowing what to write but isn't like that. It's just picking the best moment to jump into the pool full of beginners' mistakes. And to have courage to other people read your stuff and comment what they saw on your writing about you.