The Truth Always Reads True

I don’t remember the reason I started writing again. All I know is that I feel more expressive this way. I never really liked to write much when I was growing up. I didn’t appreciate it much back then.

We used to have these writing assignments back in school in Kenya that were really of no much help. I feel like the teacher focused more on the decoration of the paragraphs and sentences with big long words, similes, proverbs e.t.c. They really didn’t focus on the beauty of the language and depth of the stories. Sadly, length was appreciated more and graded better. And I think this is still the case, even in the real world.

My appreciation for writing came not so long ago. For the first time, I realised what writing could do for me. I am the kind of person who isn’t used to opening up to anyone. I will tell you enough, so much that you’d think I shared more than just enough. This is the way it’s been.

Writing has a way of unwinding my tight knots and helping me lay it all bare. I have found that the more I write, the better I get, the less afraid I am of the exposure. Being a bad writer has never been a problem. As a matter of fact, I think there’s no such thing as bad writing if you’re speaking your truth. Yes, maybe one could use better word combination and sentence construction, but it all remains the same, the truth always reads true.

I have found this to be true through deep practise and going all in on my Instagram this past month. I never really thought my stories were interesting or worth telling. Like most people, my mind got in the way of my hands and there was no movement to try and change that. I was overthinking and underwriting, and I felt like I was denying myself the opportunity of expression. I knew my words would liberate me from my fear of rejection and by writing them down; I learn to each time, let go a third of a piece of its hold on me.

So I started writing. I didn’t approach it like I did in the past, with the seriousness that crippled and clenched my brain muscles into a total block. This time round; it felt light, simple, airy and most importantly, writing felt right. Words came and stories were birthed. It’s too early to tell what the audience thinks. And as for me, I’m slowly getting used to the liberation and the lightness of release. I am gradualy learning to be comfortable with the pressures of creating, and seeing them as exciting bursts of energy to fuel the process. I love letting my experiences speak for themselves. I am at peace with letting the truth be my guiding star to true north.

This is my first meduim piece. I am opening myself up, further beyond my Facebook and Instagram. Let me know what you think :)

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