I love to write! Our need to reach another person as we convey our thoughts would primarily be the reason why I write. I want to express myself. I want to be heard. I would certainly add writing to the basic functions of a human being. We write to express our emotions: to tell a joke, to comment, to blog, to text.
Sometimes I don't know how to start, but once I get started the ideas just come to me like an avalanche! I don't know where to stop.
This love story of mine started when I first learned to write poems. I knew I have a talent when this subject was taught back when I wasin fourth grade. We learned about "Haikus."
I wrote about my pet dog. Although my work wasn't selected as the best poem in class, I got hooked! I began writing poems. How simple it was for me to make one! My only goal was to make them rhyme. That was a start.
When I went to high school, puberty hit. The topics I wrote about turned into friendship, love, hate, death, dreams, and emotions. Writing was the outlet of my bottled up feelings. It was the early 90s then, the time when a lot of kids my age started drinking and using drugs. I was spared because all of my queries about life were written in my poetry.
The transformation from poetry to short stories was drastic. During my college life, I was forced to write about essays and explanations about all sorts of things. Since I was in the field of science, I was expected to rationalize and defend what I have written. All this objective part of writing was a huge burden on my shoulders. So, I wrote short stories. At first I told stories about dreams; bizarre, unending and abstract. Then, I knew I should take the opportunity to create a story that would entertain myself and the readers. I wrote about stories with a touch of supernatural drama. Nobody had to tell me what to write about anyway. I didn't find the need to explain why I prefer creating those types of stories, I just wrote them.
Seeing my friends' faces and hearing their reactions certainly made my day. In between making those stories, I was still able to manage to write poems. This time, in a more mature form. I was making love letters in the form of poems. But, I confess, I fell in love with the styles in writing and how to express my deepest emotions more than the girls I had written them for. I even timed myself and was proud that I can finish a poem in five minutes without losing the substance of the poem.
I pursued learning in the field of science. I was torn away from her - my love for writing. Those were trying times. For a while, the only thing that comes out from my pen were theories, rules, and explanations. I tried to write about the things I love, but, I was shunned. I felt like I wasn't the artist I knew I was. "This is not for me!" I shouted this in my silent screams when I go to sleep. I was longing for her touch , for her smell, for her presence. My lover left me or I have left her. Writing was gone. Those four long years of study, seemed like they will never end. I was too engrossed with the thirst for knowledge in medicine, that I left only a negligible amount of my love for writing - stored in the recesses of my soul. I know it was still there, but it was too faint to be noticed. Then, at last, I graduated - became a master of this field of science that I have been dreaming to accomplish. But it took four more years before I really went back to writing.
It started like an accident. Like lovers walking past each other on the street. I saw her again and how my heart leapt! I know I have found her and I will not.. no; I shall not let her go! There are lots of people out there who can write, but only a handful can be called lovers of this art form. I admit, I'm not much of a writer as I may thought I am. But I know I am a devoted lover.