Why do I write?

A few years back, not so long ago
I was lost in the midst of chaos
Unsure of whatever I did
Of choices and of decisions
Full of regrets and complaints.

I picked up on my hobby, reading
It took me to far off lands and distant places
Out into a dreamy world of fantasy
All to end up so soon, leaving me lifeless and restless
Left me with an only option, to take up another.

Apparently, my library ended up in quite a collection
Of different genres
Turning me out into a regular reader
About everything my hands laid on
Till my hobby turned into my passion.

Dormant inside, sleeping somewhere in the corners
Waiting to be unearthed
Out peaked a sprout of spark in me
To write whatever I felt about
About observations of life, people, instances, memories.

One by one, as I started writing
I saw myself emerging strong, confident and empowered
Books followed blogs, articles, short stories
And then writing on prompts
Finally, after years, I got to where I wished to be.

Words gave wings to my emotions
To all those unsaid and unspoken words
Of emotions, of pent up frustrations
That was bottled up for years
Only to be let out, I now realize.

Words picked me up and let me play
I relived some past moments as I wrote
Feeling the emotions to every little bit
I had held on and felt back in those past years
Words took me to a long nostalgic drive.

Words, my new-found freedom, a new fulfillment
Is the one who can never leave me
With whom I play, being myself
Without being judged and prejudiced
Unlike people, unlike friends.

Words heal my wounds, kindles my passion
Breathes life into my life, gives a purpose
On to a new horizon, words have led me on
To a new journey to what I can cling on to the rest of my life
Because I believe, it was all in my game of life.

Words cross our paths just as people do
Leaving us either with happiness or teaching us lessons
Because words, written or spoken just cannot be undone
And it left some of my friends in disrupt
While I tried my hand at new approaches.

Words became so much a part of me
That each time, I pour my heart out
It makes a new me
And I cannot blame the words
Just because people understand only from their level of perception.

Related Post

Leave a Comment