Why did I stop writing?

Many years ago, I was a wide-eyed late adolescent trying to navigate through school with laptop-laden backpack and cheap $20 yellow pair of shoes. I was studying something completely out of my depth - Industrial and Operations Management. Was it fun? No. Was it beneficial? Yes. When I graduated, I realised there were many job options I could take on. Was I interested? No.

Deep down, I have always felt this longing to express myself in words. I love to read. I have been reading books (mostly novels) during my childhood and through my growing years. The sheer happiness and joy when I thumbed through the slightly browned-edged pages. The whiff of old wood on the spine of the books. Ah. So peaceful. So comforting. I would borrow tons. I would buy even more. Until there weren't any space on my tiny bookshelf! I stopped reading.

I was in a relationship for about five years back then. It was a roller-coaster ride as I trudged through trying to be the cool kid in school but also I had to maintain my demeanour in front of them. There were many things that made me unhappy throughout and my coping mechanism changed and it was unhealthy. It was me moping about everywhere and anytime. It was me trying so hard to please people. Always giving in to what they want. Rarely was it about me. Slowly, as days turned into months and years, I started to lose pieces of my soul. This was the vessel of me showing up to school and at home. On the inside, it was darkness and muddy everywhere. It was uncertainty in the mind. It was anxiousness in the heart.

And that is why, I stopped reading which then led me to stop writing. Do I still want to write? Oh yes, of course! Am I any good? I doubt it. Will I try again on another day? I hope.

“Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it's always your choice.”

– Wayne Dyer

Aunty Lala xx