Coffee Thursdays
I write because…
A friend of mine once asked me, why I want to write. I look at her bluntly as I hold my cup of coffee searching for an answer. I responded with hesitation that I don't know. Furthermore, I added that I take pleasure in writing my thoughts and sharing it to people. Perhaps, my friend made that question thinking that it is uncommon for most people to engage in writing simply because we can never really get a career out of it. What I mean is that majority of writers don't get much in terms of material gain or recognition. I don't aspire to be the next Shakespeare or the best-selling author but I believe there's a certain meaning or energy that drives me to grab a pen and paper and let my words flow.
The great Ernest Hemingway once said: For a true writer each paper should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.
Moreover, my inclination to write is borne out of the inspiration I got from from various writers whose works I admire. Understanding them is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for me to discover what or would have experienced. A relationship that binds feelings and emotions translated into words.
With this reflection I decide to discern on the significance of my writing, and it gives me a placid disposition and joy to realize I write because…
I write because I wanted to be loved. In my invisible world, I defeated my enemies and conquered my fears. Every word becomes my friend and they understand what I feel. Only when I write, I control my life. The emotion that consumes me is paralyzed when feelings no longer become untamed force. I revel their existence to choose what to feel.
I write because I wanted to be loved. The dark night sky gives me comfort, not coldness nor emptiness. It fills my soul with warm thoughts of encouragement. The rain no longer bear tears for it blesses my spirit, it does not remind me of melancholy nor nostalgia, but songs renewing my past and the present becomes my future.
I write because I wanted to be loved. In the real world where I am afraid to face, I confront them with answers for my words can never be unsubstantial. I give life beyond what others see. I become a creator. It is when I write, I see things rightly and my words breathe meaning. I perceive what is essential to the naked eye.
I write because I wanted to be loved. Not by you, who judge my mortality, to you I am full of imperfections and you see my mistakes as my weaknesses. Not by the society, who conceals my freedom where to conform to the system for survival. Not by any rules, made by mediocrity such movements as black and white, the wrong differentiated from the right.
I write because I wanted to be loved. I defy the world of suppression and neglect when I write, everything is free. Everything is accepted. There are no boundaries.
I write because I wanted to be loved, because when I write the only thing that exists… is LOVE.
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