Why do I write?

A random musing to start.

I am a Storyteller. My usual form of sharing thoughts and recommendations is, in person. I have so many things to share from music to podcasts, books, travel etc… But my energy is limited and there is only so much I can share in a conversation. And then there are experiences, that I have collected over my travels. Met some wonderful and interesting people, who have shared such beautiful stories and recommendations, that I still cherish and propagate further.

So, I turned to writing. To reach more people, far and wide (hoping people far and wide read this). And in turn, I hope to get more recommendations and stories from all the new people I have reached.

I write for myself as well. In my darkest moments, when everything seems bleak and my thoughts are a burden on myself, I write. I write and clear my mind. In those moments, once the thoughts start flowing onto the paper, I fail to keep up with the speed of my mind ( the handwriting is horrible). I have been journaling on and off, for a decade or so. I have had a lot of ideas that I never brought to light, guess now that I can write with a certain sense of discipline, I will be better at it.

I am forgetful af, like really really bad. My memory works on recollection. So, if I write about a memory, I will recall it fully when I read a snippet. There are some memories I have never forgotten, they have stayed with me forever.

Did I mention, that I recently started writing poems?

Well, I love writing about mundane and sometimes about hard-hitting topics, that make you think. My first poem was about The Infernal Device (the device where you’re reading this, un/fortunately). Maybe, I will share those too. I am not the best poet out there but I tell a story via my poems. The context will enhance the meanings of the poems I write.

I want to move forward and write short stories, eventually. I have lucid dreams, i.e., I can control my dreams and make choices in them. I awakened at 4 am in the night and wrote these dreams down before I could forget them (a slight hitch was I could not read what I wrote). I want to create a compilation of these weird worlds I created in my dreams and make an anthology of dreams (that will be the title).

Describing events through words brings out a wholly different side of me. Ever since I started writing, I've been falling in love with every mundane thing: the way the steam rose when I poured tea from the teapot, the way the sun shone from behind the clouds, the way she tucked her hair behind the ear, the melodious voice that made everything right or that drummer that ripped the set. I see these things and more and they give me some momentary happiness. It helps me survive this soulless city, where people just go through the day in a cycle of monotony.

Some words that I wrote as an introduction to my poetry:

When I speak
I pause and reflect on my words
Think before uttering
In writing, my thoughts are 
unfiltered and on fire 
They rage and writhe 
They have a voice of their own
They are in the moment 
And they have no consequence

I don’t know how articles work but since this is my first post, I just went on writing. And that thing above is the outcome of my musings.