I write because…

by TishaHrynt

I write because there is serenity in my own thoughts. It gets too noisy in the midst of the dreaded Monday traffic, the never-ending datelines and the crowds on the train.

I remember one night, after a long endless day at work, I look forward to dump myself on the bed until the next day. However, shit was slapped at me when my depressed, angry mother decided that it was a great time to throw her tantrums. No, there wasn’t any apparent reason why she did it, and that is the worse part. Too often things disrupt the peace of mind when we deserve that peace. Trust me, it has been a long time since I can hear my own voice in my own house.

I write because I can’t be heard.

There are some words in me that would never get out . Due to various reasons, some opinions are better left unsaid. I still keep a hand-written diary by the bedside. Most of it are daily rantings in there, but as much as possible, I would try to do my daily devotions to keep myself sane. Don’t get me wrong, it is not like I have no one to pour it out to, others too have their own noises to shut off, let alone listen to your problems. Writing is the only portal that lets me say the unsaid.

For once I can get get lost in my own thoughts and the complexity of my own mind.

For a short while, I could escape the reality and bask in the fantasy of my own heart.

I can be the priority of this world that I live in, the paper.

Writing is nothing more than a guided dream

Jorge Luis Borges