Not my forte

When there are a hundred other ways to pass time,  a thousand other ways to be productive, and countless other talents that turn heads, do you wonder why I still choose to write? It's because I fell in love with writing. Others might write for a lot of reasons.  They write to earn,  to showcase their forte,  to inform, to manipulate, to bring about some change, to attract attention, or to earn a reputation.  There might be a million other reasons why someone would want to write.  

For the people who know me,  you might think you know why I write. It's because I am good at writing,  I am good at the language, and because I simply want to keep doing something that I'm good at.  But that's not it.  I've to tell you,  it's completely the opposite.  I feel I'm not good enough, I feel it's not something that catches the eye or captures the heart.  I feel it'll just be left behind like it's just another pebble on the beach, and even if some even pause to look at it,  it'll soon be forgotten and brushed away like sand sticking to their feet.  

So much negativity in me,  and why do I still keep writing then, you wonder?  That's something I've pondered upon for years,  maybe since the day I started to write.  I don't know when exactly it was that I stumbled upon the answer to this.  So,  let me tell you why. I write because I cannot get myself to speak.  I write because keeping everything to myself is hard - be it love or hate or anything else I feel. I write more for myself and maybe also for someone else.  I write because I have a soul that yearns to be free,  free from all shackles and burdens it takes on to live. I write because I hope that someday these words I write will maybe break open the cage I got trapped in.  I write to put my heart at ease. Because once I write,  the letters take all that I've been carrying by myself to the paper and make me free while the paper seems to carry all of these for me.  

Writing is not my forte,  it is not my talent.  Writing is my escape. It is my haven, my strength, and my mirror. Where my words are, is where you'll find another reflection of me, less of my appearance and more of what makes me, me.  And I hope,  at least that way,  when you see me in these words,  you'll know me better than you already did till the word before it.  

You'll see me writing until the day my heart breathes its last, and if I run out of ink to write somewhere in the middle, I'll write with blood instead of ink and hope it would reach you.  And if I run out of words, I'll pour more of my soul into it hoping it'll sound like the words my heart is trying to say,  to you.  

And as I keep doing this,  I hope that someday I'll understand myself, and so will you.