To a friend i once had, to my only reader who thinks i can write well
Once upon a time, i did thought to become a writer and once upon a time i did enjoyed writing eventhough it was just letters.Like all stories, something happened and i took my anger into not writing anymore. In fact, i did ended up in a writers block, my writing momentum stopped, and my ielts writing i got 6.5. Words, i have come to realise resonate in my mind when i am happy. Its also a blunder that i hadnt noticed i was happy, very happy during those times.
There is a wall in my room, pasted with glow in the dark stars. the stars as months goes by has multiplied in numbers. those stars i used to like looking at while lying down on bed. now i look at those stars at night while i lay awake at night, my brain sorting out its many emotions. the stars have witnessed my many turmoils, my anxieties, my happiness and my burnt out moments. i wonder in few more months when i move out, what will happen to those stars.
I have thought about writing this story down in pen and paper for sometime. I had managed to some extend but then with my fighter mode on, i discontinued it. I had managed to bluff myself that by hiding it and sweeping it all under the carpet, it didnt exist and its all going to be fine. Denial, that is. But what i was wrong was my subconcious mind wasnt free from all this. Some psychiatry law on tip of the iceberg had made me thought of this. My goal now is to write it down, hope that once its written, i can let go.
Every story starts with a meeting. Mine was curiosity. Exactly what drove the curiosity baffles me. Now i would say it was a certain attraction driven by fate and the right timing. Usually i hear a gossip and i discard it but this particular gossip stayed and i went on a trail to persue it. The silly little things i do to try to know someone. I became more aware of this person (shall i call sai). I became more aware of info regarding sai. and i went on to meet Sai. The only problem was sai was cordial, difficult to build rapport and i think i was always forcing a conversation with sai. i went overboard and when i think of it now, its the beginning of an obsession.
I couldve chosen anyone else to help me revise. but my crafty mind used the opportunity to get sai to help me with it. Sai was partly the reason i read more. I was reading more to find more questions to ask sai,so we can have more conversations. I dont know if sai enjoyed talking to me. I have a feeling that sai was trying to be polite but the way i was pushing it was annoying to sai. It went on for sometime. I remembered organising a stopover at sai's hometown, in high hopes of sai being at home that time but it didnt happened. The stopover wasnt that exciting as i had hoped for. nonetheless, it provided me with an opportunity to talk to Sai.
Once upon a time, i did thought to become a writer and once upon a time i did enjoyed writing eventhough it was just letters.Like all stories, something happened and i took my anger into not writing anymore. In fact, i did ended up in a writers block, my writing momentum stopped, and my ielts writing i got 6.5. Words, i have come to realise resonate in my mind when i am happy. Its also a blunder that i hadnt noticed i was happy, very happy during those times.
There is a wall in my room, pasted with glow in the dark stars. the stars as months goes by has multiplied in numbers. those stars i used to like looking at while lying down on bed. now i look at those stars at night while i lay awake at night, my brain sorting out its many emotions. the stars have witnessed my many turmoils, my anxieties, my happiness and my burnt out moments. i wonder in few more months when i move out, what will happen to those stars.
I have thought about writing this story down in pen and paper for sometime. I had managed to some extend but then with my fighter mode on, i discontinued it. I had managed to bluff myself that by hiding it and sweeping it all under the carpet, it didnt exist and its all going to be fine. Denial, that is. But what i was wrong was my subconcious mind wasnt free from all this. Some psychiatry law on tip of the iceberg had made me thought of this. My goal now is to write it down, hope that once its written, i can let go.
Every story starts with a meeting. Mine was curiosity. Exactly what drove the curiosity baffles me. Now i would say it was a certain attraction driven by fate and the right timing. Usually i hear a gossip and i discard it but this particular gossip stayed and i went on a trail to persue it. The silly little things i do to try to know someone. I became more aware of this person (shall i call sai). I became more aware of info regarding sai. and i went on to meet Sai. The only problem was sai was cordial, difficult to build rapport and i think i was always forcing a conversation with sai. i went overboard and when i think of it now, its the beginning of an obsession.
I couldve chosen anyone else to help me revise. but my crafty mind used the opportunity to get sai to help me with it. Sai was partly the reason i read more. I was reading more to find more questions to ask sai,so we can have more conversations. I dont know if sai enjoyed talking to me. I have a feeling that sai was trying to be polite but the way i was pushing it was annoying to sai. It went on for sometime. I remembered organising a stopover at sai's hometown, in high hopes of sai being at home that time but it didnt happened. The stopover wasnt that exciting as i had hoped for. nonetheless, it provided me with an opportunity to talk to Sai.
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