A Few Words

Writing has never been easy. I don't think it will ever be. I try to describe what I feel day by day in words that possibly could never describe the exact emotions that churn inside me. This is the truth about human life. We try to share how we feel so that, in so doing, can understand what we probably are struggling to get a hold of. Words are just a shadow of the truth. And the truth is far from a clear see-through glass. It is more like an ocean with tides and storms and currents. The ebb and flow of life and emotions is like the waves that crush on a desolate shore, carving the rocks as if struggling to climb onto land, but never succeeding.

We are rational animals meant to suffer the natural evolution of our body and mind. It is hard to understand how our own thoughts can conjure emotions of sadness and happiness. These do not occur in other animals. It is only fear and pleasure that exists outside the human world, but we managed to transform these two purest of natural forms into something abstract, something humans strive to achieve or avoid, only to succumb to their power.

Sharing a few words to describe the feeling of wanting to share is paradoxical. It has no sense in itself, except the comfort it gives to me while writing them. For a few brief minutes, while my fingers type tirelessly on this keyboard, my mind sways away from these daily struggles, from these torments I build in my own mind. I run away from all the dreams, from the achievements I strive to conquer. I run away from the sadness and the happiness all of this brings, and shift into the realm of the narrator.

It is quite a different feeling to write, then to live. I do not think that the first man wrote to communicate with his kin in order to achieve a common goal. The first man to write was no altruist. He was a selfish man, and he wanted to get rid of his suffering. He wanted to express the conjured thoughts of his mind into something physical or otherwise tangible.

This is the reason for which I write.