It's been a decade since I wrote anything—anything for anyone, or even for myself
It's always been misery that pushed me toward writing—often, but not always. Sometimes there were different reasons to write: happiness, love, affection, adoration, respect, empathy, and so on. But there was always one common thing, one common reason—over-explosion. Over-explosion of emotion in every category.In this past year, I wasn’t able to write anything or do anything for myself. Not because there wasn’t any misery or sadness in my life, or because I wasn’t able to feel any emotions, but because another essential ingredient for writing was missing from my life: peace.
I’ve spent the whole year wasting—wasting everything I don’t even want to mention. I used to think I was holding a knife by its grip, that it was in my favor. But no, I was holding it by the edge. I held it so tightly, and with every deep cut it gave me, I kept holding on even tighter.
There’s this concept of falling—falling for things, falling for people, and so on. And once, a wise woman said, “Don’t fall, because everything that falls breaks.” You may not be holding a knife by its edge, but you can fall onto one, and it can give you the deepest cut of your life.
I think it’s time for me to loosen my grip and let the knife fall.