Writing is a strange hobby. I’d sum it up as the process of reminiscing back to every ordeal I’ve ever experienced, and then spewing it back out onto a screen or sheet of paper in a manner that sounds eloquent and clear to a reader. It’d be easy to only write about the aspects of life that my mind reels back to with ease, those of which I can feel a smile curling onto my face as I look back fondly.
But it’s never that simple.
More often than not, when I open my computer to a new document, I instantly feel my mind transporting myself back to darker days. At this point, it’s no longer a phenomenon I can control. I find myself recalling the painful times, the uncomfortable times, and cringing as I recollect some of my worst moments.
Sometimes I wonder why I allow myself to muse over the past, why I need to document every precise moment in my life. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just move on and not torture myself each time I bring my fingers to the keyboard. Because when I finish writing my story, it’s no longer inside of me. It’s out in the open for the world to read, threatening the life it belongs to. It’s out for everyone to judge, and to use however they want to.
When I write, I feel vulnerable.
I’m forced to recall the unfavorable parts of who I am, along with some of the thoughtless actions that I inevitably would come to regret. When I write, I am reopening the wounds that I hoped would remain stitched. Yet at the same time, when I write, I feel empowered.
Empowered to learn from my mistakes and hope that others could do the same.
It’s a paradox. While I may regret the topic matter my head compels me to write about, at the end of the day, I will never regret my ultimate decision to write about it. Like they say, find what you love and let it kill you.
No matter what curveball life tosses my way, I guarantee every scenario will eventually find itself in text. Writing provides me with the closure to confidently move forward, along with the comfort to eventually look back at unpleasant situations with a peace of mind. When I write, I am numb… yet I am not.