BY THE TIME I FINISH DRINKING MY TEA…
Its 10:43pm, I am drinking tea thinking that somehow it will keep me awake long enough to complete my work, and with every sip my mind wanders even further away from what I am sitting here awake for.
There are so many things roaming in my mind, half of them shouldn’t even be there. Most of them are things I am still yet to make peace with. Like why I havent been writing as much as I would like. Every attempt to write never lives beyond two sentences, until tonight of course.
Writing has always been the only thing I knew on keeping myself sane. Words were the first friends I made. The first step at breaking to heal. Words were my first love, the lover I am now slowly falling out of love with. And I fear what not writing will translate into in terms of my healing journey and my overall mental health. Basically, I fear going too long without writing. What those bottled thoughts and emotions would do to me. How will I make sense of anything with emotions up to the throat of my heart making it hard to breathe?
Its 11:12pm now, my tea is cold and half empty. Usually this cup is too small for my thirst and I always have to go for a second cup, but tonight all the things I love cant seem to bring me any joy. They feel and sound so foreign. For the first time I am about to go to sleep without wearing socks. The sad realisation here is finally seeing that my failure to write as of late has nothing to do with a writer’s block, but an act of becoming less me. How with every unwritten feeling, I stray farther away from myself and deeper into the dark. Soon, I will be harboring all these unwritten words and unable to recognise myself.
Its 11:53 and I know I dont want to become a stranger to myself. I dont want to ever look back one day and not recognise the person I have become. Something’s gotta give in, and it has to be all these unwritten words, trying to make a home out of my silence.
I really hope to fall back in love with writing soon, before I lose myself.
