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Scribbler.

Have you ever wondered, if you had never written that first phrase of your poetry or the first sentence of your blog, how would your life have been right now?

Just a random human with built up emotions, unable to unload the sentiments because no one really cared enough to bother themselves to ask.

So, you penned down all the suffering, pain, love, complaints, everything you felt, because you started believing that venting in front of your ‘notes’ is way better than your own people.

How weird is this? People claim to love you and still fail to understand your insecurities. Instead of supporting you to feel more, they forbid you to feel anything at all. Because they think, you are overreacting or overthinking. Rude, isn’t it?

I remember the first time I wrote. I was 15. Even though it was just some random rhymes of a song that I got inspiration from listening to ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift, I received appreciation in an abundance from my family. It felt amazing, not because I had written something, but because I had my family to back me up. But it was a mere replication of something huge. So, I didn’t bother much and let it go.

Few years later, when I was a teenager, I felt so many emotions at once that I was scared of being lost in the depths of unwelcoming exposures of life. There was so much going on, like it would for anybody.

Through all that, I had my best friend. For 15 long years, she supported me at each step of my life. She scolded me when I was wrong. She would question my intentions for doing something that she wasn’t convinced for. She loved me, like no one ever would, selflessly.

I’ll forever be grateful for the love she has showered upon me, for I might have lost her to Cancer a few months back, but I think of her, every-single-day. I talk to her in my head when I’m confused, frustrated, happy, sad, funny, loving, or anything.

If you’ve read my blog Words, you would know that I talked about her, my soulmate. She made me believe I could write. When I heard about her demise, all I could think of was the lessons she taught me. She always believed in my potential, but my setbacks on writing would make her conscious.

So, one thing she asked me not to give up was – writing.

And this time, I won’t. I promise.

If I hadn’t started writing, if I hadn’t felt the pain to express myself, I would have never been able to know how beautiful I felt when I got praised for my words. And I’m thankful to her, for making me feel this magnificent feeling.

Someone admiring you solely for your thoughts, your words is such a rare occasion. Trust me, this is one of the most wonderful feelings one can feel, because of writing.

So, if you ever decide to give up, or feel you’re not meant to write, please think about why you started writing. Think about the pleasure and solace that writing provides you and your heart. Think about people who love reading your work to know you more.

They believe you are unique for what you are and what you feel.

Don’t let them down.

Keep scribbling.

185 thoughts on “Scribbler. Leave a comment

  1. Nice post. I was initially going to comment about how cool it was that you were talijg about venting thoughts in a blog – because I also wrote about the same thing I think an hour ago…

    But then you went on to talk about the relationship with your late friend, and your relationship with her is similar to mine with my late mate too…

    I don’t know, it’s just that I was thinking about how these thoughts work and it just feels kinda comforting to know that there are people who seem to have, even in the tiniest of ways, similar footprints to me 😂

    I hope to enjoy your blogs in the future

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