A writer with a cause? Now wouldn’t I want to be one? Not
sure where this urge to be a writer comes from, not that I’ve
written anything in particular apart from ranting on about life
and tiny little poems. As a person, I’m the least expressive but I
somehow manage to get through when I write, I write to calm
myself, and yet I’ve managed to stop writing at all. I wonder
what that says.
Its mostly sadness and anger that shape my writing, sadness
(from too much empathy) and anger (when things are not
right). I guess I’ve found my cause! On a more serious note, I’ve
been an avid reader since I was a kid and I love music (it feeds
my soul, I know its an essay in a writing class and not a post on
someone’s wall on facebook, sorry about that.) Music inspires
me to write and I love literature, so I guess this is where it all
begins. So when these two things connect it just coerces me to
write, you know, like Jack Kerouac’s three week burst of writing
in ‘On the road’. Highly unlikely but I do manage to come out
with tiny ruptures (If I may say so) of paragraphs time and
again.
Another thing that sort of, kind of makes me want to write is
the concept of “Perception”. A ten lettered word (I’m sure we all
know that!) that could take in an entire world. The core of our
camaraderie’s and adversaries. Our notion of people that we
belong to or alienate from comes in through our sense of
perceiving people. What if the reality we believe it to be is not
the actual reality? What if the truth hides a totally disparate
being behind the façade of our perceptible authenticity? If the
people in our lives are not really the people we want, in terms
of knowing what they truly are. If the person we project
ourselves to be is not really who we are. What if in actuality the
person who we truly and deeply are is not the person who an
individual perceive us to be? Perception is a dichotomy
between the simplest of words with the most intricate of
meanings. Life wouldn’t be as miserable or as stupendous
without it, that why it seems like the best thing to me to draw
inspiration from.
Seems like I’m writing an essay on perception and not
otherwise, I couldn’t stop. I was really hesitant about writing this
assignment after seeing all your assignments. So thanks for
bearing with me till the end I’m just a budding writer (hopefully)
and I really hope to learn much from this class, truly.
I would like to conclude with a small something I wrote:
Have no clue as to what I do, Sometimes I’m good, at times
I’m cruel
I’m not the kind that trips on fake philanthropy, At times a
smiling face hoping to get a glimpse of someone else’s
misery
I talk like an angel, soft spoken and nice, I mutter vague
obscenities of prophetic doom otherwise
When around people I’m strangely blanched, drained of
emotions, with façade of plastic smile, When surrounded by
the murky darkness of loneliness, its an eternity of paradise.
Have no clue as to why I do,
At times a Samaritan, a demon
otherwise.
PS: Its not the perfect piece of writing to conclude with but I
wanted to write it anyways.