Writing

It is sunny in here as she is looking towards the glasses wall. At times the sun greet her with a soft touch of its rays. It felt warm.

There is this dying tree in front of her. It has its leaves all covered in golden brown. It is dying, yet beautiful, the view that she had. How can dying be beautiful? And then, there he is. Always walking passed her place, she wonder which unit is he in?

Tall figure, fair skin and glasses. He would fit to be her next muse for her writing, she thought to herself. But that, would be in the next writing, maybe. Maybe not. Just see how it goes later on.

Writing. She is not sure when does it started. Is it maybe it started because she feel like her voice was not heard? Or she was not sure on how to express her feeling verbally? Or maybe it started because writing is easier than voicing things out? Else, maybe because she learned about herself better through writing?

Whichever the reasons is, writing somehow, she discovered that it helps to silence her buzzing minds and soothes her tired heart. It helps her to calm the demon inside and writing, that "why" should stay that way. She write because she care for herself. And let that stay.

It helps her to recognize her true feelings, to describe the things that has been going on in her mind. It helps her to paint her feelings until it is describable in words. And seemingly, it turns out pretty well. She get to know herself better. What she likes and dislikes, how is she really is in person, how she act in person in different circle. She learned to identify those little details and traits whenever she write her confusion. She could see better through her writing than just looking by the mere eyes. Most importantly, she learned to love herself and know her worth.

She smiled while writing this. To see herself this way, she is becoming more and more to a person that she needed while she was younger. Good job myself uhuh, tapping on her shoulder giving herself encouragement. She also learned through writing that, she is her number one supporter. Of all people, she is. And He is, too.

Writing at times makes her observe people more, urging her to dive deep into someone mind. If she could, she would. There is always a hidden sadness in everyone's eyes. That is bothering her at times. Learning it, she know it is needed. That sadness, for if one does not own any of it, they would not know how to recognize or feel happiness.

Would not know where this is going to but, writing is a blessing, for her. A blessing that she wish to own for a lifetime.

I wish so, I wish to learn more about myself and fall for myself even more with time.

It always left me feeling emotional whenever I type things back. Writing and typing, it has a different vibes. I'd prefer writing over the paper, the crease felt, how the pen runs into it. It's a weird pleasure.