I’ve always wanted to be a writer.
I’m not sure what got me to love writing, but it gave me a lot of comfort to pen down the words and thoughts I was too afraid to say out loud. I’d hardly read my old entries and maybe that is a matter of habit after my diary once fell into the hands of someone who not only read my deepest thoughts, but judged me. As though I was wrong for having such thoughts and I would be punished for it.
But I still love to write.
Be it the ramblings, the musings, sometimes it is a mean of inspiration. Writing it down helps me admit things to myself and to explore the rationale behind my feelings. I sometimes wonder where the line is in terms of how much one should or should not share online. I believe in the truth though I doubt everyone can handle the truth. We are all unable to accept certain truths, what more live with them.
May I have more courage, may I write.