When I was in school, I used to score well on essay writing which doesn’t seem so surprising now since I write every day, like my life depends on it. I love writing because it helps me express, it helps me vent, it helps me in those times when I can’t explain what’s going on inside to someone or when I’m lonely. My writing doesn’t leave me as per its convenience.
Living with stereotypes, if you write well you should become a journalist because at least it pays and maybe some respect. So that was my career goal and everything since standard 8 was focused on achieving that. After school, I took up arts and studied sociology and history because value add and scores were equally important. Obviously, I took up Mass Media for graduation. However, along the way I got distracted, found out I was good at other things too and ended up studying advertising as my final year specialization.
After changing many jobs and career goals, at twenty-five, I sit at home and write. I started writing poems when I was around seventeen post my first break-up. For some time I kept discovering that side of me and most of my work was dark, sad or painful. When I posted some of it on social media, someone I considered important said very casually that my writing was useless, that it was boring and no one would be interested in it. That comment hurt me. I stopped writing and decided I wasn’t good at it although I had received positive feedback from others.
Things changed this year. I started writing from my heart again. From poems to short write-ups, one-liners to relatable articles I’ve been doing it all, and I’m enjoying it. Many of my friends now ardently read what I share and provide constructive advice and I love that about them. It helps me grow. Some of them even go overboard with appreciation when a particular piece hits the right notes with them, it’s just about relativity but I won’t deny basking in that glory.
As a tell-all writer, I often have to deal with people pointing out that I am melancholic, and that I need to brighten up and write with positivity. It always takes me back to that one comment, except now, I either ignore the feedback or thank the person for taking the time to read and move on. It’s not because I’m arrogant, it’s not because I think I’m greater than the other, it’s actually got nothing to do with that. This year has, in fact, sobered me down and given me a new perspective.
The thing is, I write for myself. So if it comes across as sad, maybe that’s just how I feel. I’ve been through some rough times and there aren’t enough bright and happy corners in my mind that I feel like writing about. I write when I can’t express myself in actions, and the happy moments of my life don’t need words.
So to all the peeps with unfiltered advice, you can unfollow me because reading should not be forced. You should read what makes you feel, emote or think.