So, I’m a person of letters. I write. My most powerful weapon is words. Not mainly fiction, but words which have their own voice, and speak of their own feelings, experiences, and the lessons they’ve learned along the way.
Sometimes I’m lost, and I don’t know which battle I fight with these words.
I don’t know if it’s a battle of loneliness, or of seeking validation, or the fact that I’m utterly amused with life; and the only way to somehow understand the inner workings of the universe, is to let these words speak out of their own guilt, curiosity and criticism- while it pours everything out, and my feelings and my thoughts become bare.
I don’t know for sure, but I think the best thing about writing is that I get to see myself whole. It’s therapeutic for me.
It’s like I rip myself open , then slowly as I inspect, I seek to understand what’s all inside and how it came to be, then I sew myself back up.
Honestly, there is a part of me that I cannot seem to find it by myself. Truth is, I need someone, I need people. Because that’s what we all need: we need each other.
And I guess that’s what I’m expressing through my words: communion.
And when we communicate, when we speak, when we tell our stories, we both find a similar part that we can both relate to, and maybe help us achieve something great; something that we’ve been searching for.
The irrefutable truth is that we need love, understanding, and above all, we need to have real conversations that inspire change, that lead us to redemption and greatness.