If Im not being myself, then I’ll sooner or later burn out. I feel exhausted by my attempt to write like a literary giant. I can’t write like Ernest Hemingway or Oscar Wilde as they are legends. Im not a legend but probably someday I can be one. We never know what life has in store for us writers.
Actually the fact that I call myself as a writer itself is an exaggeration as I hardly write. I write occasionally and when my mind is in a mess and when Im bored. When I cant express myself verbally in this world, I write.
Sometimes my thoughts get the better of me. The what do I do ? I need to vent. So here I am. I don’t have a great command over the language like the class apart writers and authors. But I do possess one thing. I’m brazen and feel unabashed of what I say or write generally as a person. That is what scares me the most. Once I let myself out I wont stop. I might end up writing things which people would think twice to pen down whenever they are too cautious with words.
Thoughts are unedited then why should I omit certain words while writing. I would take pleasure in directly translating my thoughts into words no matter how ridiculous and crazy it seems.
I write because there is this voice inside of me that is aching to be heard by strangers.
Why strangers ? Sometimes you can tell anything to a stranger without the fear of being judged. Telling things to those you know makes you awkward and shy as it can get uncomfortable at some point, when you have to look in the eye of the person regularly after having shared things so personal to you.
We all are strange in some sort of way but when we embrace the strangeness within us. We become accustomed to sharing our feelings with those strangers with whom we find some uncanny resemblance.
We all are similar in some ways and different in other manners. Yet there is a common element between us which when found makes it easier for us to connect with even those whom we have never met or seen.
All us bloggers have one thing in common.
We are non-hesitant to pour ourselves onto this virtual world and have no expectations.
We don’t expect as we don’t know who listens to us and who cares about what we write. We write because we want to and feel an illusory acclaim even if no one acknowledges us.