True Calling

I always knew what my true calling was, yet I wanted to not be that person.

Writing for me was a recluse, from the world. I was quite a good writer when I was young, and yet, I purposefully destroyed it, in order to find things to write about. I tried finding inspiration, and in a given time I would rather do anything else except for the thing I enjoy.

I am terrified of that. I am thinking in my head how bad I would be at this. I have so many built-up fear about this thing that I am not sure I will be able to confront them.

I wanted to keep writing for myself my recluse and not open it up for scrutiny and criticism. Because scrutiny would mean losing my voice in the voices of others and the critics would overtake my thoughts.

I organise my thoughts when I write, but I would rather let my thoughts wayward because I feel that I am too constrained by the organization. And confusion meant freedom, in a way.

Staying confused made life easier because I didn’t actually have to be good at anything, I could just stay confused…forever…

If I wrote and if I could listen to all my thoughts and they would all make sense. Then I would be terrified at the projection and thoughts would lead to action and inaction would hurt, failure would hurt.

But how can I let something I love hurt me?


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Shuvo Shams

Trying really hard to have only one epiphany at a time in this dystopia.