It was a rainy afternoon. I just finished the qualifying exam for a mathematics training. My neck was aching from the brain draining test. I hope I would pass. But still, I wasn’t tired. I was even looking forward to that day because I’ll get to visit my favorite store in the mall, National Bookstore. We live far from the city so it’s not that accessible to us. It is the haven for all the stuff I’m obsessed with. You see, I am the notebook, diary, planner, and pens type of girl. Many of my classmates love to go to Penshoppe or Bench, but I was more on the nerdy side. I loved the feeling of being surrounded by books, pens, and paper.
Writing has played a lot of roles in my life. For me, it is my kind of art. You see, I’m not a visually creative person. I can’t sketch or draw. I don’t have a way with colors and imagining things in 3D has been a weakness ever since. But writing? I don’t know how with just grabbing a pen and paper and using the vocabulary inside your head, can you have such a cathartic feeling. It’s like when I write, I feel that a little bit of me is relieved. It’s as if the stress goes away with every word that I pour on my laptop or on a piece of paper. When I write, my mind gets more organized. Suddenly, it’s more calm and simple.
The Day that Writing became my Best Friend
In my sophomore year in high school, my English teacher asked us to have a journal. Every day, we write on it about how our day went. Our student teacher checked it regularly and I guess my entry was quite different than my classmates’. It wasn’t a happy diary. That time, there was so much rage inside me, so many whys, it was just what I needed. I had to tell someone or something about what I was feeling. I was being bullied and at the same time my parents were always fighting. I couldn’t pretend that everything was okay, so I decided to write it on that diary. I can still remember the color of the notebook I used. It was a green Cattleya notebook with glitters and flowers on the cover. My student teacher didn’t like what I was writing, maybe that’s why I got a low grade, but you know what? I didn’t care. Writing on it made me feel better. I didn’t write to impress anyone. I wrote for me. That’s when I knew that writing will always be a part of my life, a hobby, an art, and my best friend.
Writing Gave me Confidence
As I’ve mentioned, I don’t write creatively. In fact, when I write, it’s just expressing what I think using simple words. My grade school writing coach made me write editorials, which I really hated. At that time I just didn’t like it. I felt like it was so forced out of me. In high school, I tried to write news and feature but still, my writing coach made me write editorials. However, when I’m chosen to write for science and math essay contests, I remember how I loved it. It was like exploring a different world. It was analyzing the current facts and trying to communicate your thoughts about something you love. Those were the moments that I felt like this is what I want to write about. I could say that, hey, I can write. I became more confident that when I was writing about subjects that I love, even the weirdest ones, I’d be like a free person. I knew at those times, that I loved writing.
Writing as a Medicine
When problems arise and your heart feels like it’s going to burst, grab a pen and paper, and write it out. Even if the message cannot be sent to that person, embedding your feelings to something permanent will help you feel that release. I remembered when I fell in love with a boy one time and I just couldn’t say it to him personally so I got my journal and wrote everything that I wanted to tell him. Well, I didn’t give the letter cause that would be too embarrassing (good decision though). When my heart got broken, I wrote there every day until I realized that I was okay again. I got tired of writing about him and just had enough. It was like I transferred all my heartaches to that journal, and so I was left with less heartache until it was totally gone. No more what ifs or whys, it was just me, moving on. I felt the hurt and writing helped me get through that. Psychiatrists advise patients to have a journal. In my experience, it’s true. Writing makes you aware of your thoughts. When you read that entry over and over again you’ll have an aha moment. You can recognize what you should change or how you can respond to a situation.
Writing as a Pensieve
If you’re a Harry Potter fan, you might be familiar with the Pensieve. It’s where wizards would store memories so that they can revisit those anytime. I think having a journal or a blog is just like owning a pensieve. You can revisit the memories. I’ve owned a diary since fourth grade and when I want a good laugh, I read it. You can also see how far you’ve went in life. You’ve grown up. Your concerns are different from the ten year old you. And, isn’t that amazing? Sometimes we feel as if nothing’s happening or there’s no progress at all but if you look back, you’ll see how different you are and how many obstacles you’ve gone through. Being able to read your past thoughts will let you have a sense of accomplishment. Or maybe, you’ll realize that things don’t have to be complicated because at the end of the day, everything works out after all. Time traveling is possible when you write.
Writing is Freedom
Remember that moment when you were running on a lawn or sitting on swing or playing seesaw? That is how free you can be with words. Words are so powerful that it wakes up something inside you. I think as human beings, we are so lucky to have this way with words. We are just privileged with the capacity to express our ideas and emotions. We are free. Happiness, I think, has a lot to do with freedom. When you are feeling dangerously free, that’s when you’re happy. When you’re not afraid to express yourself, then what could possibly go wrong? Writing gives me that feeling. Whatever gives you that, keep on doing it.