It has been a long time since I wrote something for the sake of it; because it is fun; because it makes me happy; because it is the absolute one thing in the world of activities, and endless To Dos, that I would happily do. I was too focused in attempting to write good poetry that in the process, somewhere I forgot the reason behind all the writing that I did. It all came down to writing that one poem that would be “it” (which I doubt, even exists); it all became about impressing the reader (assuming that I HAVE a reader,) and my friends.
It got so bad that recently three of my friends came up with a couple of amazing poems, and instead of being proud of them, I found myself in this place where I was resentful of the fact I was not able to come up with something close to what they managed to write. It all came down to jealousy, which culminated in me writing a bunch of crass poems.
So today I decided enough is enough; that it was time to get a grip of myself, and remind myself why I write. I write because it helps me make sense of the milky way of chaos that makes my mind. Without words I am a swimmer forced to swim with their arms and legs tied up – I would definitely drown. I write because I have to. It is the one way in which I am able to communicate what I have in mind.
Someone a long time back asked me to write for myself. And this is what it is. This is for me and me alone.
I don’t give a damn about you liking or not liking this one. This one is for me.