Finding solace in words.
The catharsis of being acknowledged.
Here I am. Engaging in a pursuit i’ve always wanted to. From dreaming of being a writer of some form, to actually finding myself doing it, It has been a long time coming. I grew up marvelling at the likes of J.K.Rowling , Fyodor Dostoevsky and Jeffrey Archer as i turned each page of their literary gems. I could feel , i could see the writers leaving behind a piece of themselves, parts of their mind’s innermost corners into the pages they create.
I’ve evolved as a person making writing my choice form of venting. The psychological relief of coming up with even a few short lines has been something which i could find no place else. It was like i fit. Hand in Glove. In my mother’s arms. I could write into a piece of paper and express better than to a concerned friend.
Fair to say , God saw fit to give me a childhood which any normal person would find lonely. And in writing ,I found the good friend i desperately needed. It was like a companion from heaven without having to go through the motions of finding out how the person’s mind works . No hours spent figuring out if the person would fit into my scheme of things and my idiocracies and quirks. In my world. No trepidation of my deepest fears and shiny mental scars becoming common knowledge among people. A friend ,i could trust. One who could never betray. A pseudo partner i could brainstorm with. Ahh , so many benefits rolled into one , isnt’t it?
Like an addict chasing his first high, my bond with writing deepened as i grew older. Literature became a part of me, part of who I am. I could find myself slowly realising my survival would be hard without consuming literature in quantities not many would.
The possibility of expressing my innermost vulnerabilities and not being exposed is an outlet i held on to with the strength i mustered with the knowledge my life could depend on it. The piece of paper became my philosopher and friend who gave me advice, lent me a shoulder to lean, wiped my tears during my difficult days, embraced me for small wins. I was weak at commandeering the ship of life but the person wielding the pen sounded like a sage who lived through a war. I would have long sunk into an existential crisis without this pseudo partner not letting me get ensnared by the monsters this world holds.
What if the mirror in your wall spoke back? What if , it had an actual voice you can hear?
My romance and discovery with writing has led me here. I found this brilliant platform called Medium where other writers who express thoughts with an aesthetic beauty that shocks by it’s sheer simplicity and elegance. Humans who conveyed happiness and pain. Writers who’ve formed the same relationship with writing that I have. WRITERS I CAN TALK TO!
Voices that heal you. At last , I’ve found the place i belong and i look forward with great hope for the valuable words which my readers can spare for me, my thoughts and articles. The first 100 followers and the partnership programme would be the next step of my romance with writing. The validation i can would be considered confirmation that this is a match made in heaven without a doubt.
The feedback from the souls are all that i look forward to as i begin my journey to a 100 followers and beyond.
#100followerschallenge #followforfollow #100 followers #third-eye-gypsy
