Ever since I learnt how to use a pencil, I remember using it every single day and filling up any space I could find. I remember being thrilled the moment I was allowed to start using a pen back in Primary 3. I didn’t even mind doing my brother’s composition correction back then.
To me, writing is “the” something special I don’t ever want to lose. When I say writing, I don’t really mean academic writing kind of thing; it’s not really my forte. I mean the kind of writing where I can write whatever I want. The kind of writing to let my imagination and ideas flow out into words. I want my piece to at least reach a person’s heart. I want my piece to make a person feel something.
Five years ago, I didn’t even dare to show anybody my work. I had doubts about my own work. Now that I’ve reread my old writings, I ended up loving each and every part of them. Sure they might not be the best work that exists in this whole wide world. But I can see a part of me in every piece that I’ve written. My own writing has become my own way of healing and regaining sanity.
Now that my life has been a little more hectic, I couldn’t write as often. In fact, I find myself missing writing even more and more. I get inspiration and motivation to write at the weirdest and wrong timings. This really is the best hobby I’ve ever had.