A lot of people on facebook and twitter and tumblr sent me these lovely messages. I honestly can’t thank enough all of those kind people because most of these messages arrived right at the time I needed it. Sometimes I forget to be thankful , sometimes I forget how surrounded I am by such good hearted humans.
But that’s the thing about writing, no body ever told you how lonely it can get while you’re sewing words to make sense of the world. On my best days, I’m mostly taking things for granted; my smile, my love and my fresh breath full of hope and friends and kindness. These days I’m trying to touch hands of friends and family and trying to hold them and heal. But the it passes and its the same old floor , short breaths and me. It’s the most saddest thing in the world no matter how much we romanticize being lonely it’s always going to be a little tragic and blue. But I guess that’s the thing we writers need yknow? pain and solitude. Loneliness is the universal muse for all of the artists and musicians and writers in the world, I think. It makes them who they want to be, it makes them an accomplice of sadness and the most tragic thing is, it’s not necessarily who they really are.
I know I don’t post much, but I write a lot and most things don’t get publish because I’m very insecure and unsure about my writing, and all of you have helped me to trust my words.
It’s been six years since I started writing prose and poetry. Its a good day for me, so here’s a post to everyone who’s read my words and have appreciated me for the effort.