Biba

a writer with a maniac, psychotic, crazed addiction to writing

[awriterfaraway]

" Art is talent "

Art is practice.

Art is practice.

Art. Is. Practice.

[awriterfaraway]

I don't usually vent on the internet, but nobody knows me and I don't have anyone to talk to.

Life has been hard. Like really hard. I think I've always found hardships in my life. But my writing saved me. I started writing 2 years ago. It made me feel alive. It made me WANT to be alive.

And I was not really used to that feeling. As an outcast and introvert, I questioned myself and my whereabouts most of the time. I sat in places I didn't want with people I didn't want doing things I didn't want tolerating situations I didn't want.

Writing was the first real choice that I made of my own. It is something that entirely belongs to me and that I CHOSE to pursue.

Those around me made me live through hell for it. Because I was no longer willing to waste my time on things other than writing. Writing that brought me no profit. Just LIFE. I fought so hard, every day felt like the beginning of a battle. Until I was scared to get out of my own room, knowing what was waiting for me just beyond the door.

It has been two months, and I've been... off. At first, I didn't think much of it. Until I started writing with a little less passion. Started feeling a little less while doing it. Started to just... remind myself to write just to write.

I cannot, no matter how much I write, put into words how disappointed and heartbroken I feel towards myself and all I am at the loss of passion that I feel and the frustration that it brings me. I cannot describe how disgusted I am of this... this pain that I feel in my heart right now. And I cannot say how sad it is knowing that I CAN speak but nobody around me would get it. Because not everyone knows how it feels like to feel your art slip through your fingers.

I miss WRITING. I miss my characters. So much. It feels like I lost everything just at once. Like every organ was ripped out of me and I'm left out just bones.

I feel lost without a purpose. I feel like I felt before. Like I don't want to be here. No matter where I am. I never want to be there.

And there's this sentence... this ONE sentence that literally and constantly swims in my head. I'm not even trying to write good now. This is literally what I think. This once sentence.

I want to go home.

I constantly feel like this. And think like this. Whether I'm outside or AT my own home, I WANNA GO HOME.

Because it feels like it has been a long time since I was home, even though I AM home, but I'm not at the same time. I am not home, and I so, so fucking desperately wanna go home. I just want to go home.

[awriterfaraway]

The times that shape who we are are the times that threaten to end us for good. The times that threaten our elasticity to handle things. At those times, you either break or be scarred. Permanently. And I believe both options are within our choices if we have enough courage to believe that we're tough enough to handle it.

[wondercat64]

my problem is I'm convinced I can get anything to work if I just phrase it EXACTLY right. if I simply put the right words in the perfect order every problem will be solved and every person will understand. nevermind that this is extremely unrealistic hashtag myproblem I'm keeping it

[awriterfaraway]

God, how I love seeing and looking at his face. How I love watching him do mundane unnecessary things because I'm way too curious and fascinated for my own good.

Fuck my life.

[awriterfaraway]

As an introvert and someone who's very obsessed with their creative side, writing, I naturally hate socializing. But not in the way one would expect.

I hate the aftermath of socializing. The way it creates this loud, dopamine-filled, confusing, blurry static in my brain. I despise it. I despise anything that fucks with my brain.

Whenever I'm interacting with someone, I don't receive new ideas. I hate how I have to sit at the end of the day for at least an hour to pull myself back from the hormonal brain rot I've gone through. Because I don't live in a creative community, I live in a capitalistic one where everyone's dream is to have a good job and a good marriage.

It's suffocating. It gets to my brain easily. Distracts me from what I want to focus on.

That's why I hate socializing. Because people don't inspire me, they distract me.

[awriterfaraway]

We don't write because we are creatives, we write because we will always be overwhelmed by a weight of so many words that nobody will carry but a pen and a paper.

I write to document. I write because if I don't, I might just go insane.

[awriterfaraway]

A month ago, I read One Yellow Eye by Leigh Radfor. After a zombie apocalypse in London, a doctor's husband gets infected. Kesta hides him after the breakdown is cooled by the government, and throughout the book she tries to heal him.

This book is the best one I've read so far this year. Made me cry three times. It shows, REALLY SHOWS, how far someone could go for the people they love.

And Kesta had gone SO far. Further than any reader might expect. This book broke my heart. No spoilers, in case someone would like to read it.

[awriterfaraway]

One of the things I internally hope other authors I read for pay attention to are the reasons as to why two characters come together and the intention of showing their harmony throughout the book. Which traits do they have that make them a good duo? And if they hate one another, where are they clashing?

It just forms a bond so deep and real in reading. One that is incomparable to a relationship formed simply because the author decided to bring them together.

[awriterfaraway]

Sometimes life makes me wanna wrap a thick, long cable around my neck truly.

[awriterfaraway]

I will write this here to share my feelings, knowing that nobody will find it. Not those who know me anyway.

There's a guy that I like in my university. At first, I didn't really pay attention to it, but then somehow it blew up in my face. His eyes always find mine and it is so frustrating.

There's something deeply beautiful about his eyes. How they are doe and match mine. When he laughs, he looks even more beautiful. Or when he smiles.

Today, I realized that I wanted to kiss his cheek. It looks soft. I genuinely love hugging people and kissing their face. People who are dear to me.

Maybe he doesn't like me. I don't know. But the idea of him not feeling this much tension I do when we're in the same room, in each other's presence, doesn't make sense.

If he finds his way to this post, it means that I let him. And when I let him, well, that would be a disaster, but who am I kidding?

[awriterfaraway]

Update: Last week was busy, and he was in my face pretty much the whole time. The eye contact was brutal, though. I don't know if he likes me and I really would like to know.

But this week, I've been feeling distant from everything. Including him. I would like to get over him because I have trust issues and can not commit to a relationship.

I don't know. I feel like we would be real good together but I just... can't.

[awriterfaraway]

I will write this here to share my feelings, knowing that nobody will find it. Not those who know me anyway.

There's a guy that I like in my university. At first, I didn't really pay attention to it, but then somehow it blew up in my face. His eyes always find mine and it is so frustrating.

There's something deeply beautiful about his eyes. How they are doe and match mine. When he laughs, he looks even more beautiful. Or when he smiles.

Today, I realized that I wanted to kiss his cheek. It looks soft. I genuinely love hugging people and kissing their face. People who are dear to me.

Maybe he doesn't like me. I don't know. But the idea of him not feeling this much tension I do when we're in the same room, in each other's presence, doesn't make sense.

If he finds his way to this post, it means that I let him. And when I let him, well, that would be a disaster, but who am I kidding?

[awriterfaraway]

Nobody talks about how draining and terrifying it feels to sense your passion for something slowly fading away. To watch the highlight of your days turn into a chore simply because you don't want to let go yet.

[awriterfaraway]

"Avoidants are terrible. "

"Avoidants are insufferable and emotionally unintelligent. "

You guys need to understand the fact that nobody would handle living one day of what that avoidant has gone through. Avoidants are the softest and most loyal people from the inside who'd been let down by others for years to no end. They like distance. They hesitate a lot. Because they want to protect themselves. Because they know that they're still easy to break.

Please don't judge someone simply because they're just trying to freaking live. They try to heal, too. Like everyone. They try to make friends. Communicate with them. Tell them how you feel. They're not freaks. They're human too.

[awriterfaraway]

Leave me with books. Music. Writing. Clothes that fit my taste. Black ink pens. Journals. Yellow light. Earphones. And I promise I'll be more than fine.

[awriterfaraway]

Do it for the art kid in you. Do it for that teenger who went to sleep sobbing. Make art. Make art. Make art. And I promise it doesn't matter. Whatever troubles you. Whether it is making a living out of your art or hoping people would discover it. It doesn't matter. Make art. Please, make art. Please, don't give up, for God's sake. For every artist, there is an idea. Do not let your ideas decease. Pretend all the artists of the other centuries are standing over your head, watching you and watching out for you. And trust. Trust. Trust. Trust in yourself, your hands, and your brain. Trust and make art.

[abogwitchnamedsage]

I don't know who might need to hear this, but I wanted to share something beautiful I had the opportunity to witness.

In the chaos and uncertainty around us, there is still so much love and hope.

A few weeks ago, a local international student nervously approached me and asked if I could photograph his wedding reception. We barely know each other — so much so that the only real thing he knew about me was that a) I was a graphic designer and b) he had seen me hold a camera. And the only thing I knew about him was that he came from overseas to study engineering in the U.S.

He explained that his friend (and expected photographer) couldn't make the trip. I sympathized and told him I had a similar situation with my wedding, but then he said something that made my stomach churn.

Almost all his family and friends overseas can't make it. So can't the bride's, as she's studying abroad as well. With the warmest smile, he says while he wishes his family could be there to celebrate, he's so lucky to have great friends who are helping them put on a small reception.

I told him I had it covered and I wouldn't accept payment. Photos like this will be invaluable over time, and I wanted to pay it forward as the volunteer photographer at my own wedding did.

The wedding was this weekend. I cried during it.

His fellow engineering students became wedding planners. A church opened its doors free of charge. Families of local students caught wind of the event and handled the food, learning cultural dishes from the bride and groom's home countries. A mom group banded together to make table centerpieces. A recently married couple donated their leftover decorations. There were almost one hundred guests. Most of us didn't know each other.

It was the most beautiful wedding I've ever seen. Not just because the bride and groom were so deeply in love with one another, but because strangers saw an opportunity to be kind. In a community where hate of anything 'foreign' seems to fester, a bunch of people saw two lovebirds separated from their families, stepped in, and said, "how can we celebrate love today?"

All I saw was love. Maybe we're not as doomed as we think we are.