‘Write’, they said.
‘About what?’ I asked.
‘Anything’, they replied, ‘just write, create’.
An inspirational couple I met while in Mexico told me this.
They said they could see I was a beautiful, creative person, and that I should
share my story with the world. It’s wonderful how strangers can make you feel
something you haven’t in years; how much hope and endless possibilities they
can inspire. I left that night, feeling touched, like I had finally been seen,
feeling re-connected with a part of myself that I thought I lost.
Writing was always my outlet growing up, writing stories,
poetry, or just incoherent ramblings about anything that inspired me at the
time. Mostly I wrote about sad things, about the hurts and pains in my life, as
I still do today. I wrote because it was all I could do; there was no other way
to share my dreams, or secrets. A fresh piece of paper and a sharpened pencil
were my only friends, my confidants. Sadly, not much has changed, except I don’t
write as much as I used too.
I used to dream of being a famous writer, telling my story,
inspiring others as I had been by my favourite authors. I convinced myself I
wasn’t talented enough, I would never be good enough, so I stopped. The thing
is, is that it doesn’t matter if that’s true. What matters, is the writing, the
creating, the giving of life to something in this world that was not there
before. Now more than ever, I feel this need to create, to express my thoughts
and my feelings. My only hope is that one day, someone will read my words, and
I can be their light in the storm.
