Want to know something?
I really love writing.
The feel of pen on paper, buying a fresh journal and imagining all the ways to use it, picking pens in your favorite colors—pure joy.
A storm of ideas waiting to take shape, aching to be born on the page.
I didn’t realize it back then, but my love for journals and pens started long before secondary school—my brother was the one who pointed it out.
I always wanted to write, but fear of prying eyes held me back. I didn’t have a smartphone back then. When I did put something down in writing, I tried to hide it away from seeing eyes.
I made countless attempts over the years to write whatever story or thought crossed my mind.
Once, I let two of my classmates read my work-in-progress.
Around the same time, others invaded my privacy and read my personal journal. I tore it up afterward.
In 2016, during my BSc., I still wanted to write stories. I had these “scenarios”—synopses of ideas I hoped to expand one day. I even wanted to further the story I wrote after getting more ideas to add to it.
Then in 2017, my dad gave me a notebook.
I was somehow inspired to write in it—anything from little jottings in lectures to moments where my mind went on a journey. I captured the travel there too. It felt magical.
But when that notebook ended, it was as if my imagination did too.
No longer could I think of an MC in a particular situation.
No longer could I think up random quotes and come up with a tagline from that. Zilch.
I tried switching journals, but none felt quite right—until 2019.
I started it with the words: “To be or not to Be.”
Not because I’d read Shakespeare—I hadn’t—but thanks to a lyric from One Direction:
“To be loved or to be in love.”
I had this whole myriad of thoughts jumbling in my head, but to this day not one word has been written towards that cause.
That quote sparked a chain of journals.
I barely remember what’s in them now.
I only know they held more weight than my recent ones.
My journals no longer became a place that I could go to for reprieve from my thoughts.
They became a place where I couldn’t be my truest self, couldn’t give my all.
Dare I say it but they became a chore.
They no longer called out to me. I bought books that I felt would inspire me, but instead, when the time came, I was close to tearing the pages out.
Writing just because I’ve had it for too long and “it’s time” to change books.
I’m down to my last book, and I fear that if I stop having a dedicated journal—once this current book finishes—I may no longer keep one anymore.
What is all this for, if one may ask? Why the long intro?
All of this, if you’re wondering, circles back to something I said earlier:
I love writing.
But somewhere along the way, I lost what it means to me.
I got obsessed with the idea of writing. Pinterest, then YouTube, consumed me—videos on story plotting, notebooks, writing tips.
Watching almost 100 videos on story plotting, novel notebooks, tips and all that.
Telling myself that once this, this and that are in place, then I can write in peace.
But none of that made it easier.
Loving to write doesn’t mean you’ll actually write—especially if all the writing stays trapped in your head.
For the life of me, I cannot write an entry without my hand cramping up because my thoughts are faster than my hand.
In the process of the hand trying to catch up, the writing becomes messy.
I don’t enjoy typing either.
Even though I’m fairly fast, the pressure to edit while I write ruins the process.
Autocorrect interrupts.
It feels like I didn’t really write anything.
Maybe that’s just me.
Even this write-up is dragging.
I tend to over-describe because I want you to get it—every last bit.
I’m sure this post has parts like that.
The number of times I’ve said I will write on certain prompts but never do.
Posting anything here is proof to myself that I’m finally doing something.
They say, “Do it scared.”
So here I am—scared out of my mind, thinking this might be garbage, but uploading it anyway.
Maybe this one act leads to something more.
We’ve all gotta start from somewhere.
You don’t have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great – Zig Ziglar
The scariest moment is always just before you start – Stephen King