Deep within the soul of a still insecure young woman like me is a very quiet and gentle soul. My aspiration to just hold the pen and write out thoughts to simply deliver without that noisy vexation full of pretenses is very strong. However, normal and societal demands often get in the way of the peaceful slumber I long to lay down with. As I go through life’s daily hustle and bustle, I often ask myself if the distractions to the soul are worth a so-called “normal” life. If normal meant blurredness to one’s own undisturbed self-awareness, I might just take a lonesome path to uniqueness and seclusion.
Searching through the façades I voluntarily strained myself to mask is a constricted lady with a heart longing to live a palpable life with hopeful extracts of ingenuity and understanding. Through experience, I have observed and realized that writing brings out the rawness in me. This raw boldness in which peace ironically ascents. There is an unmistakable, profound and inimitable harmony and freedom in letting one’s soul speak through written words. Delivering a message without false pretenses and emotional barriers is what drives my hand and fingers to write or type. It’s not much of the literal noise which bothers my longing soul but more of the walls with which I have to build to present myself like a case I have to defend in court.
My inner self simply longs to just shut it and write it. If living in a complicated and fallen world meant I have to conform to so-called realistic views, I might just take a lonesome path to fantasy when it could mean deliverance to the true knowledge and life of actuality. Let my soul rest in the slumber of wakefulness. Let my thoughts flow through my written words. Through these alone, you’ll get a glimpse of the true person that I am, for the true person that I am hardly speak but often feel.
I have a quiet soul. It merely resides in the body and shows rarely to everybody. My favor to write assembles paths toward bridging gaps between one’s self and also in between souls.