I write to satiate these feelings inside of me; the desire to soar up into the sky and never come down. The desire to fly into the clouds and enjoy their ever-lasting presence.
It can be very hard day-to-day, and sometimes I wonder how I’ll go on. I struggle with writing in the first place because I struggle with staying focused. But somehow writing has begun to be my solace. The place where I can come to rest, to relax, and to be truly me. I’ve never felt this world would ever truly accept me for who I am.
I have struggled all my life with being different. Perhaps that’s okay. Maybe it’s fine to be different than everyone else, and maybe it’s okay to use writing to fill up that empty feeling in my chest. But something happened that I never expected: not only does the empty feeling become filled upon writing, but it disappears completely.
When I was younger I never thought that anything could ever help me. The depression I felt, the anxiety I felt with simply walking outside because I was afraid of being criticized for everything and anything I was. I wondered if there was ever a way out, and later, I found there was. Through my words I can find a way out.
To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m writing this. But this has satiated that need within me; filled that empty space. And if someone ends up liking this and relating to it, then good. That’s something I’ll be very happy about. But I’ve come to realize that nobody has to relate to or like my writing for me to be happy with it. Writing is language that comes from your soul, and if that’s not one of the most sacred things in the world…I don’t know what is.