Friday, December 14, 2012

How it started

When I first started writing, it was on any piece of paper I come across, tissues sometimes. I would just write anything that comes to my mind. Just filling the whiteness of the paper. I do not wish to make it look very poetic because it wasn't. It was more like enjoying the exercise of emptying a pen on a piece of paper. Was it an urge to write? an impulse? maybe not. If I were talented at drawing, I would have preferred to draw. But I wasn't and I knew how to read and write, so I wrote. Mostly nonsense and nobody read it. I hated my writings, they were like my alter ego, everything I hate to be, but I knew that it was everything I was. When I later wrote stuff that I would not be ashamed of showing to others, they all turned out to have a very sarcastic voice. In between these two phases, I kept a teenage diary and wrote hundreds of love letters (to a real person). Years later, all my letters were sent back to me. I never sent his.
I still enjoy the same exercise but instead of emptying a pen on the whiteness of a paper, I play on the laptop keyboard  to make letters appear on the screen. What you read is the mere result of that. 

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