Sunday, April 8, 2012

The Block

After a month and 15 days, I’m back to this wonderful place with little fears and hesitation. Each time I open my page, it seems like I am going to pour down my thoughts on the blank space and I tell to myself, “Girl, you write write write and write till you die”. Nothing makes me feel as good as my own words scribbled on a blank space. It would be my stress, my pain, my love, my tears, my soul or anything and everything about me. There is no better way where I can release my stress other than this. Yes, writing is a real catharsis.

 When passion fills my soul, the words flow naturally from the tip of my fingers. It is neither premeditated nor planned, but it comes spontaneous. Each time, I write I have no idea of what I am going to write. I believe and enjoy its uncertainty. It would be scattered and spread. It may sound disorganized and messy. Yet I love them because it smells my emotions and thoughts raw. When I myself can’t predict, what I am going to write, is it not interesting?  Or am I psychologically disordered?

I have been going through a crazy emotional state of mind.  I have been experiencing a writing block. I am caught somewhere, somewhere in the middle of yesterdays and tomorrows, somewhere between a lost raindrop and found sunshine, somewhere between a dream and reality, somewhere between love and agony, somewhere between these keys and space where I type... Yes, somewhere I am struck.  

I want to pen down my thoughts straight from my heart but something is stopping me. I am becoming too conscious of what I am going to write and what others think about me. This consciousness is killing my spontaneity. The more I am conscious, the more it sounds artificial. The more I bother about others, the less I become what I am. My blog is nothing more or less than an outlet to convert my stress into creativity. Let it remain scattered, ambiguous, uncertain and weird.  My own thoughts confuse me and my own thoughts console me. So I don’t want to be aware of those WHEN’s and WHY’s.

 I don’t want it to be categorized because by the end of the day, messing up has its own beauty. Isn’t it pretty than disciplined? If everything is perfect and planned all the time, wouldn’t everything become mechanical? I am not perfect. I don’t want to call me so because I know there is lot more inside myself which I am yet to discover, yet to explore and still I am looking for that ME, who is unknown, unheard and uncertain.


By Willilam Wordsworth

 To top all these, I believe music is the power that can make or break anyone’s mind. I think I can call it love, a love which doesn't change with the change of time. So to add the flavors, here is a beautiful track which I have just discovered. I instantly fell in love with it.  It is a beautiful love ballad where she talks about love and breaking up too. She is so much in love and at the same time she knows that the relationship is going to end.The lyrics are simply amazing and so is the music. Listen to it and enjoy  :)

                       
 P.S: The post is only an attempt to overcome my writing block. These words are from my first draft, very much unstructured, unedited and messed up, just like me.

2 comments:

  1. very much unstructured..., un-edited and messed up...?? sorry....I dont feel so.....!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. @Jinesh Padmanabhan - Beauty of Randomness :) Thank you !

    ReplyDelete

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