Sometimes writing can be a struggle. At least that’s what I tell myself when I can’t think of anything, but that is completely false. I mean look at how easily I’m writing right now. It might seem to me like I’ve got nothing to write about, or that my mind is completely empty, but in reality, it’s all just psychological. Once I put my pen down on paper and just start writing, there’s no stopping me. It’s the best feeling honestly, just writing out my thoughts and the first things that come to mind, nonstop. It’s a very powerful feeling. The proverb ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’ couldn’t be truer, I’m sure all you writers out there can probably relate. I could write about the sun, the moon, the stars; how the wind sounds against the leaves on a tree, or how the ocean waves sound as they hit the nearby rocks. I could write about the way something feels or tastes or looks. I could write about anything and everything, even if it seems like the hardest thing at first. That’s the beauty of writing; you can do it in so many different ways and in so many different languages. There’s no right or wrong. What you write is fully yours, and no one can tell you to change the way it’s written.
Writing is my escape, for when I need a little getaway. My secret hideout lies within the words I put down on paper. It’s a place that no one else can enter, no one but me. Unless of course, I grant them entry through the stories that I write. Whether I’m happy or sad, or anything in between, writing is something that I’ll always look forward to doing. It’s a place to lock away memories and emotions, it brings me peace of mind. Once I start writing I can’t stop until everything that my heart and my mind is holding onto is poured onto paper. I mean where’s the fun in stopping? Whether it’s on the blog or in my journal, or on a random piece of paper that I found on the floor, I’ll just write. I’m the type of person that feels the urge to write if I see a pen lying around. How could I not? I won’t be satisfied until I’ve used that pen to write, it would bug me all day. When I write I’ll want to talk about the birds and how they fly, about day light and the night sky; I’ll talk about children at play, or the sea and the tide. I’ll even talk about the sound a rusty old swing makes or the way the door creaks when it’s open or shut. I will write about all of the little things and then of all the biggest things. I’ll write about the same thing over and over again, all from a different perspective each time. Words fascinate me. Languages fascinate me. It’s something I can’t get enough of. To some people, it might be boring, but to me it’s everything. I have so much inside of me that I’d like to share, so much that I never knew about until I started writing. And now that I’ve started I’m never going back.
And here I was just a moment ago, saying that writing can be a struggle, but boy was I wrong.