Writing...

 I need more coffee for this. It’s been nearly seven hours since I sat in front of my desk pondering over everything that I have written so far. Writing can be so frustrating sometimes. Imagine sprawling on a sheet of paper for hours together, unbeknownst to what lies ahead, oblivious to what the result is going to be like. One puts their heart and soul into it, spending hours trying to find the right combination of words and phrases. Let me get this straight – one is not always successful. Most of the time, a person fails to deliver what they have to say on paper.

Writing can be exhausting for some and therapeutic for others. It ultimately depends on how they perceive it. Perception is a gift. Some just give up on their passions without even giving them a shot because they fail to witness what lies at the other end of the veil. Quitting is easy. Let’s just be honest and admit how simple it is to drop your dreams and desires. It hardly takes a nanosecond to do that. It may be an immense relief for a short while not having to do any work or wander.

 But after a day or two, that sinister feeling of regret creeps in. One tends to make various excuses to overshadow that guilt. There will be a massive effort to forget the sin that has just been committed, but it’s impossible to let go of that. We will rebuke ourselves and gnash our teeth in utter fury trying to string two words together.

 Probably hate the way we are responding to the difficulties and detest what we have managed to pen down on the sheet of paper. I am no different from the rest of the population of mankind, but I follow a definitive mindset whenever I commence to write something down: just be yourself, be your unapologetic self and let those raw emotions speak for you on the piece of paper.

I immersed myself in a frenzy of writing, my hands moving without pause. As I scribbled furiously, it felt like both a curse and a blessing. An irrational fear plagued me whenever I took a break from putting my thoughts on paper. It always seemed like everything I had written would vanish into obscurity, leaving me with nothing but a bruised heart and an empty mind.

After three days of relentless writing, I finally held the finished work in my hands. A joyful smile spread across my face, only to twist into a look of intense concentration as I began to hunt for mistakes that should not have been there. I paced back and forth, the crumpled sheet of paper in my hands, crossing out misspelt words and pesky grammatical errors, wondering how I had let them slip through. Eventually, I began to detest every word I had written, feeling the strong urge to obliterate it all.

But then, the finished product lay before me, the culmination of days and months of work. With each reread, it sounded entirely different, sparking my interest once again. A proud, victorious smile spread across my lips, and at that moment, I realized that perhaps all the pain had been worth it.