Why I stopped writing? Part 2

Ok, so I don't think the previous post was enough for me to express why I stopped writing. I hope this post will somewhat allow me to get some things off my chest and also practice my writing skills.

Years back in secondary school (for context, I live in Singapore. Look it up.), I owned many notebooks. Lined and unlined. These notebooks would be filled with lyrics of my favourite bands and musicians. I would write poems and sometimes I challenged myself into writing a one page story. Those were the fun times. Those were the times I felt true to myself. At that time, I yearned to be like those psychological thriller writers.

Nowadays, I keep having this feeling that I don't deserve to express my thoughts. That writing and telling the truth would mean spilling secrets or negative thoughts about other people. That writing meant I would expose the ugly of others especially those of familial ties. So I think I would need to write in a way that wouldn't be so obvious that could pinpoint whom I was talking about. I mean, I know it's not nice and it may seem disrespectful, but they played a vital role in making my mental and emotional health bad.

So yeah, this is me writing again. And I hope to be writing again. Maybe tomorrow?

Before I forget, Ramadan Mubarak to all my Muslim fellows. May this year's Ramadan bring us forward to be better versions of ourselves.

Aunty Lala xx