I don’t really remember when or even why I like to write. I think it began when I was still in middle school. I liked to write about how I felt. Not in a full story, not even in a sentence. It was just a doodling of words. Some kind of calligraphy, but of course in a font that a middle school student know of. When my friends like to doodling or drawing on the corner of their text book, I write instead. Some words like “Boring”, “Haha, funny!”, or “OMG! So cute!” (this must be when I saw my crush across the class room. HAHA!”). But, It’s just that. I can’t remember when I start to write for myself.
Yes, I write for myself. It could be about any kind or anyone. But I never meant to publish it before I knew about blog. Even when I started blogging, I didn’t really care about blog traffics, comments, or likes. And it doesn’t change that much now. The only reason why I publish my blog is just that I want to share about my thoughts, without worrying much how the thoughts will suit others. I mean, I don’t mind if anyone’s disagreeing with me about things I wrote. I just need to release some burdens.
I kept a note book that I always write on. I think it’s started when I was in high school to write every time I feel confused, sad or stressed. Most of my journal filled with my negative thoughts back then. I guess, until now, I write to calm myself. It’s my way of sorting out my thoughts. When I’m filled with negativity, my mind is always a mess. Somehow, when I write, my mind is getting clearer. My heart beats slower. I’m getting to know myself. But now, I write almost when I feel everything. When I get too excited about something. When I think I need to list all of my plans. Or even when I feel inspired after reading books or watching movies. I’m getting to know a complete version about myself. I know what I want, what I need and how to fill the life with purposes.
I wrote once that when I read, it feels like I drop off in a rest area where I can finally pull the hand break, take a deep breath and have a short walks enjoying the views. But in writing, it’s like a pull over and think to sort everything out. It’s not a short getaway. It feels more like a pit stop. A break to prepare more of life.
Primadisya's Locus Pocus 