I’ve aspired to be many things during my eighteen years, a writer now being my latest dream, as I’m sure you’re all aware. However, as I stare at my laptop, looking at an unfinished draft on my screen, it has only just became clear to me that throughout my life, no matter the circumstance, whether it be a happy moment to cherish or a sad moment to cry about, writing has always been there to guide me through.
When I was seven, I was extremely hurt and confused by the fact that my granddad had passed away. At the time I was unable to express the emotions that everyone so aptly associates with loss, so, almost without fully considering what I was doing, I wrote about it, filling notebooks with songs about the feelings I couldn’t verbally express. Back then I was a keen singer, so the songs that I wrote were the equivalent to a journal entry or a fictional story I would now choose to create, but that isn’t what matters.
Without being too presumptuous, for a writer, like myself and the many that fill this vast blogosphere, the writing process is therapeutic in the way in which it allows us to heal from loss or preserve our happiest, most nostalgic memories. Since the beginning of this blog I have regarded myself as an aspiring author, but now I also understand that those who wish to pursue such a career must have always had a deep love and appreciation for creative writing, no matter what form.
I would be really interested to know whether this post is filled with far-fetched presumptions or whether you can relate to it somehow. If you want to, let me know in the comments. 🙂
Until next time keep dreaming x