It’s been a long time since I have written something. A really, really long time.
So long that, if my inner author were a person, their legs would have a catch in them; a strange, but expected, sort of spasm…
It happens when your surroundings are cold, and you haven’t used them in a while. Your legs exist for walking, for running, for supporting your weight. And when you don’t use them, their purpose remains unfulfilled. They spasm, they hurt, they need to be stretched… And that is how my inner author feels right now – paralysed, convulsing and unmoving out of laziness.
Life has been busy, sure. Expected from an Indian IT engineer, who has just joined the largest industry in the most competitive country. But has it really been so busy that I cannot churn out even one or two small articles? Or perhaps my mind has been so boggled by work, and tension that I have no fresh thoughts to dole out on paper?
Even before I type it, I know the answer’s a big fat NO.
Because even now, my mind is filled with a hundred thoughts. Even now, as I lay on this bed, I know I can spare at least a few minutes for writing. And yet, I don’t.
Laziness can be one of the reasons. But, I think a more fitting reason is fear.
You see, before when I used to write, it was a hobby. A secondary outlet for my primary thoughts. I always had someone to talk to, but writing always gave me the creative freedom to see my thoughts once more, experience my interactions and express my views for a second time in a more relaxed fashion. I could re-read my own thoughts & views and ponder their meanings.
Sadly, since I have joined the supposedly depressing I.T. Industry and its accompanying independent bachelorhood, writing has become my primary outlet. And that has baggage.
The kind of baggage which includes me having to confront my inner fears. Clearing out my conflicting thoughts and inner dilemmas. Analysing my thoughts. ALL ON MY OWN.
And that is overwhelming. What if I write something down and I hate it? Or myself? Or my thoughts? Or it shows me a truth or outcome that I don’t want to see?
What if my inner fears get realised? What if my future choices get weighed down by random pangs of jealousy? What if I start to hate people I don’t want to hate, or admit love for people I never thought I had the capacity to love?
This… Post. This mini post – – Its me attempting to break out of my own mental prison. I have to improve. I want to grow. And I don’t want any stupid nonsense ever affecting my judgment or actions (although it’s perfectly normal and hence, not nonsense or stupid).
So here it is – my first try at opening myself up again to the idea of writing. My first push, my first leap, my first dash into a better future… At least my first in a while. I hope to continue writing something regularly.
All my problems, some of them including jealousy, loneliness, uncertainty, anger and love, will surely be sorted out. And doling them out here will only help. I mean it has to, right?
Besides, my mind is like a pressure cooker right now.
And I need a whistle to let out some steam. What better way to do so than by stretching my literary legs?
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