To Begin…

To begin…

I remember when I was a lot younger how much fun and easy it was to write in my diaries. I could write about anything I wanted in them. Most of what I wrote was just ordinary day to day things about school, friends, family, the outdoors, trips and adventures. 

I had many diaries actually; I can remember had one that was pink with sparkles, another one had a soft baby blue cover with fuzz on it. As I got older, the colors were no longer pink, purple, or blue they became black and serious. The colors that once represented my childhood had become dark and unoriginal rather than spontaneous and fun.

I miss the days when writing was simple, when I found profound enjoyment from it. When I write now, I tend to overthink and over analyze what message I am trying to get across, it’s become a chore instead of a fun way to pass the time. I miss the truthfulness and honesty that came with writing as a child, it was exciting, authentic and filled with real experiences.

I think the difference that I am trying to highlight here is that now after having been evaluated on my work for so long by professors and my peers with grades, I have become sensitive about who reads what I write. It’s ironic because in school we are practically forced to share our work and they say that creativity is encouraged by handing out ludicrous unimaginative topics to write about, but my diaries were always locked up with the keys that were nowhere in sight with my most creative pieces, hidden from everyone else.

I admire the writing skills of others so much and I’m worried if I can’t write well enough, then why ruin it? The art of writing is important to me. I want to write something that means something, anything at all really, to someone else. A piece of writing that inspires, that motivates the creativity in someone else like it has for me time and time again.

I find a great deal of comfort in words. They are meaningful and I am able to connect and feel safe that my emotions and feelings are universal through pieces of writing. 

I just finished googling how to write a journal, I even viewed some samples of other people’s work, but here I am again worried about how to write and what to write. Maybe along the road with all the pressure that comes with evaluations and grades in school, I started to believe that I will always need to have a generic topic with a specific structure to fill an introduction, supporting arguments and a conclusion.

But the truth is I don’t need instructions on how to write and what to write about anymore, no one is evaluating me. No one can impede on my creative and genuine adventures anymore.

I think that I am finally ready to try writing again, as a leisure activity and to stop letting my unachievable expectations that I have created for myself overpower my freedom to at least try. I am tired of measuring and comparing myself according to what others think or might think so I will try to begin…

…to be continued…

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