A small note
It isn't about me but You.
Once a friend said to me,” Ahh……! I just don’t get you. You need to write better. It is hard to grasp the main point. Why don’t you write a little summary for your every articles?” yes, he is right. I amn’t a good writer. But do I like it? Yes. Do readers like it? Sometimes. So, I am here to explain why my articles are unpleasantly written? Just like every man on earth I deserve an explanation of why my articles aren’t somehow touching your soul or your heart whatever you have on hand.
Why am I writing?
I have never imagined myself as someone who could use letters to express my feelings. But desperate situations and heavy days forced me to pick my pen up. I prefer talking over many modes of communications. If you are wondering I can talk in silence too. I talked for so many years and the air didn’t seem to ease the heaviness of my heart, and the funny part was even I forgot how to be in that place after a few days or months of daily life. Trust me, I amn’t a forgetful person. So all I had was heaviness with vivid memories. I couldn’t keep some days alive and telling it out loud didn’t seem to help, even my own brain betrayed me let alone the air or the ears of others. So words were the best choice at this time of struggle, a struggle to keep some emotions alive. Do you expect me to write pleasantly while all I am doing is trying to find a way to keep my emotions and a few thoughts breathing for a few more years?
Did/ does writing help?
Yes, but the things I want to say are far beyond those words. Maybe it is my lack of talent or skill but words weren’t enough and they will never be, just better than many others. There are some days where I want to cry for no particular reason and of course because of many valid reasons too, yet tears wouldn’t just be enough. In random mornings I just want to scream out loud in a room full of people, some other days I want to sit on the ground in the middle of a busy road. On some days I just want to keep quite and stare at people's face with out saying a word………..there are such days and world never let me live those days so what do I do? I write.
There are some people who would leave an empty bottle in my soul. I won’t open it since it is full of nothings but I won’t throw it out because it is theirs and that is the only thing, they left for me. These empty bottles move with me. They roll here and there, sometimes they collide too. During those days where there is too much noise inside because of them, words are the best pills to take.
So why is my article not beautiful enough or not perfectly written or easy to understand?
I find it hilarious when people ask me such kind of questions. I amn’t even beautiful enough in a world full of alluring and breathing taking people. Who did you think I am? Why am I expected to write beautifully? I am also far from perfect; world is far from perfect. How can my words be perfect? What is perfection in the first place? It is drug that keep us in motion for a long period of time. The more we inhale it the more we look for it. Why couldn’t readers understand my articles easily? Maybe it is because I didn’t\ don’t understand myself enough. I have to understand my daily life consistently, trust me many times I was surprised by the revelations. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was hard to understand the point, not because I was trying to be ‘sophisticated’ but just because it was raw and unprocessed.
In spite of all the above justifications I write because it makes me happy, real and honest. For now those are enough reasons to keep going. But I want to ask you, why do you do the things you are doing? How would you justify your actions if you were questioned? From unrelated but somehow linked topic, how would you explain your existence? How is surviving and sometimes living going on?