You know you were born to WRITE.
A poem for every writer.
You were never born to sing, or dance, or program, or manage a business, despite what your education told you, despite what your parents told you, despite what your degrees told you, despite what the market told you, despite what they told you at the placements.
You were born to write.
You will write,
and they will tell you to mind your job, they will tell you to mind a baby that you should birth, they will tell you to mind a future that looks insecure because you write.
And when you write,
they will tell you you are not good enough, they will tell you people don’t have time to read, they will tell you you are no Hemingway, they will tell you you write like a lame wannabe, they will tell you there was only one Tagore from your birthplace, they will tell you you must write in your native tongue, they will tell you you have no right to write.
But you were born to write.
Because there is no other drug you ever needed. Because you never needed coffee to write.
Because writing is what brings you peace.
Because you could never do anything else until you found you could write. The moment when you formed words with puny letters, you felt like a God in control of a tiny world.
Your fingers stumble, but the keyboard is your piano. You keep playing with it, creating a symphony for yourself, you are like a Beethoven who can not hear what he plays. You cannot see what you write, and yet you write away, because the melody is in your head.
You are the instrument, you were born to be the world itself.