It was barely five months ago, when I decided to pursue my first love- writing. Growing up, I knew I want to be a writer but being in a family and place where I was, it was quite unexpected of me. I never let anyone see what I'd written, I store my drafts beneath loosen floorboards or shoe boxes, fearing that anyone would see. Thinking of it now, I am ashamed that I did what I did due to fear and rejection.
We do things for it makes us happy and fulfilled. We try departing from it at some point but it haunts us relentlessly- that's what happened to me. I tried denying my first love and after two decades, here I am, writing to my heart's content.
It was my dream and still is. Of course, I have not gone successfully like publish my own book or be recognized publicly but who cares? I am loving every minute I spend with my reliable PC. And to sit in front of it, typing whatever comes to mind is a personal bliss.
I have a long way to go and I feel that pursuing my dream, my first love will bring me fulfillment. I don't have to hide works beneath floorboards and I can leave my shoe boxes alone for good. For fear and rejection will always be there. I cannot control others as much as I wish, but if there is one thing I'm totally not afraid of doing- is to write and try my fate as a writer.
If others say that losing hope is tragedy in itself...
I also think that fear is...
Now, I am writing and is not fearful...
Who knows what I can and will do next?
Simply anything!
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