My thoughtful words crumble in anxiety as I nakedly strive to open my life to you. Though words crowd my life but I still doubt that a million lines are enough to explain a writer’s life.
Every writer is unique but uses a common tool: words. Our inner world is so rich with emotions that the outer universe sometimes seems to be non-existent.
Concentration being my biggest enemy and surviving solely on the merit of imagination, the early years of my life breathed with ease. I ran like a free-flowing river unaware about what lies ahead.
Only thing that troubled me was – I was not able to think like others and unfortunately, nobody ever tried to think like me.
Everyday I pushed my mind to focus on the present but my heart’s voice was too spiritually loud to distract it. I unabashedly thought I was only talented enough to wonder.
Sitting in the class, distracted from what the teacher was teaching and admiring girls and absorbing their beauty , calculating the times they irresistibly smiled and subtly adjusted their hair made me realize a valuable lesson:
Those flirtatious dialogues and sparking moments made me love myself. It made me feel free and now that fu*king rule book that says ‘Behave-This-Way-Or-Be-Like-That’ held no importance. Emotions found solace in words and the words found freedom on the page.
Initially, every moment of disappointment ended in a page of frustration. Failure got converted into a motivational song and a heartbreak into a short story. But somewhere I know, I had taken my first step to dive into the complexity of an artist.
No, I wasn’t.
The first glimpse of angst and depression took hold of me and I was taken aback. The suffering was essential but was short-lived. Later, the storm settled and I could envision my dreams clearly.
The mind opened its closed windows and the demons also caged out. I could imagine, create and write things that were beyond a normal person’s understanding. Creativity was blooming in every moment. My distinctive thought-process was visible and the world questioned it but I unapologetically trusted in what I believed.
The heart found its treasure in words and the soul rested in ecstasy. The voice of the heart graced my biggest decisions in life. I was not afraid to lose and compete with anyone because my journey was mine. The more I listened to my heart, the universe magnetized people and situations to support my desires.
The heart couldn’t accept the foolish theory anymore – ‘We-Find-Each-Other-Attractive-So-Let’s-Date’, it started searching for something more deep and real. It longed for a connect that won’t age with time and had a promise of wisdom and loyalty.
So, if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. You will always be living in his pages either with the breath of pain or love.
A writer’s life is not easy, everyday he challenges the depth of his emotions and questions what’s not questioned and writes what’s not written before.
You, as a reader, see a piece of article as an amalgamation of words, but it’s his life that you are actually reading.