As I’m in the middle of this journey of discovering my niche as a writer, I’ve come to realize I’m more interested in expressing myself through the stories I write – my thoughts, beliefs, opinions, etc. – rather than have writing as an outlet of creative relief. I guess sometimes it is both, but usually it leans to the former than the latter. Writing is more of a medium of expression for me. I feel like I’m more interested in being genuine and real with the stories I write rather than being creative with it like creating a mythical or fantasy world. That being said, it can get scary sometimes to put my heart on paper knowing people – strangers – would read them. It is even scarier if the people I’m writing about read what I write about them. That thought puts pressure on me when I think about what they would think of the words I never had the courage to speak in real life being put on paper.
That constant reminder in my head like the ticking of a watch, a never ending noise in the background I may or may not notice, but it’s there. Sometimes the story I want to write about is so emotionally real that it makes me afraid to even write it out. I don’t know whether it’s judgment I’m afraid of anymore or if it’s the emotion itself instead. Maybe I’m afraid to pull the bandage of the wound, lest it starts bleeding, and I don’t know what to do if it does.
And then I resort to procrastination because it’s easy. But I know no matter how I delay or distract myself, I cannot push the nudging thoughts away until I write them down. I cannot be at peace with myself until I do. It’s hard, but I have to get over it.