500 words challenge, Writing

{Day 7} I Feel Like My Lungs Are Going to Explode Into Feathers & Words Tonight

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I’ve been using my words and my inner desires to figure out the person that I am right now and to create the person that I want to be in the near future. It’s not that those two personas are quite different. I think it’s like my current persona is in the puberty age, looking up to my future persona as her full-grown adult superhero.

I have passed the baby and the toddler stages. Those were the days when I learned how to write, how to blog, discovered other writers, appreciate and even envied a few, both living and dead. When I try to recall how I feel about my kiddie selves, I like my innocent scribbles during those times. I’ve written for myself, keeping all my thoughts a secret — both offline (notebooks, journals, password-protected Microsoft Word) and online (anonymous blogger).

That went on until I craved for recognition and interaction with regards to my writing. I wanted to be read. I wanted to be heard. I wanted people to slice my chest and take a look at what’s inside. I wanted to induce a reaction — mostly affirmation from them. So, I decided to come out in the blogosphere.

I took the first step.

I made a blogging mess obviously, writing about this and that, but consciously worrying of what people have to say about me or my thoughts. So I kind of filtered them. My high school honest, ethereal, dramatic writing faded on my current ink. I questioned myself on how evil of me to let that precious little writing pixie go.

Well, it’s just not me to blame. I took up engineering, trying to awaken the “smart and technical” side of my person because I always thought that I could be a better person if I could contribute like how the left-brainers of society do. I ended up being a test engineer, facing integrated circuits for breakfast, talking to them on coded words, on a level that they understand me.

I stayed in my company, you bet, but I couldn’t stop my fingers from hitting on the keyboard in an attempt to save my writer alter ego. So, after a brain-draining day, I would always write on my blog until I discovered that I could get paid for my writing. It was a prestige that I am not willing to keep to myself. I read more blogs, fished for more employees while keeping my day job. My personal blog transitioned into a Lifestyle and Finance blog. And I don’t know where to place

I have been writing, but I’ve been writing for somebody else. I longed for happy reliefs after a tiring heartfelt entry. I longed for writing for myself. I longed for writing and reading and reading more and writing more about what I have just read and reading more about writing. I longed for this kind of life.

I dream of this life while writing pieces (ie, e-mails) that I am not excited about. Okay, yeah, I often get lost in my thoughts in the office because I can no longer wait for the day when I can say that I’m giving up writing codes for writing on blogs. Repression breeds

Today may not be the day when my adult writer self should be awakened, but I can feel its faint breathing oh so close.

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for Magpie Tales, Writing

Magpie Mondays: Let Fear Not Be

painting by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

 

She knows no one in the bar; she just wanted to do something radical

and so, she danced with no music as if there was

and smiled to people staring as if she knew them.

Pretty soon, the band started playing offbeat melodies

and the crowd marched for the dance floor to join her.

— for life wasn’t given to us just so we could breathe. We were destined to live boldly.

 

She was created when the universe exploded and hence,

star dust must be in her bones.

She allows her star to shine its brightest white.

Her starlight beams upon me

Her stars dangles with mine.

— She is me, and I, her.

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for Magpie Tales, Prose Poetry, Writing

Magpie Mondays: Dream Balloons and Lane-Free Pathways

Apprehensions, move out of the way.

Fear, you can wait, but you can only in vain.

Because I’ll be driving on a lane-free path today.

Discernment has gotten the better of me.

In my boat shoes, I would fly over the waters.

Because I’ll be driving on a lane-free path today.

I’ll kiss all my doubts goodbye out of my car window,

as the image of my comfort zone shrinks on my rear-view mirror

Because I’ll be driving on a lane-free path today.

** Written for The Magpie Tales

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