Every once in a while you come across a piece of writing that shakes you to your core; something that makes you just drop everything else and compels you to think about it. It actually saves you in a way. For me, such piece of writing came in a Wattpad story. Funny, I know, but it goes like this:
“The saddest thing in the world is a box. It only knows what’s been put inside of it and it can never know what’s outside its walls. And what could be more sad than a box is for a person to live like one. To only know its own feelings, its own people but to never realize that close by, right outside that box, there are other things and people that change everything that can tear down the walls confining us in.”
~F.A.I.T.H. by JoPRBooks
The first time I realized I was a closed off person was right after I read this paragraph. It hit me so hard. It took me a minute to fully realize that I’ve been living this way my whole life. The second time I realized it again was today. As a part of a writer’s workshop that I was attending; we had to bring a piece of writing that we love and share it with everyone as to why we love it. My first choice was this quote. Nothing has ever hit home for me as much as this paragraph. But once I got there, I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t bring myself to share something so personal, even through my writing and that shocked me. It shocked me because writing has always been the one way I can express myself and suddenly I couldn’t do it anymore. It made me feel emptier inside. I meant to share this one writing that I can relate to with all my life but I chickened out. I chose another piece of writing, something less personal. But I’m glad I at least shared that one. Because I chose something else I’d rather speak about, I was able to process this whole cycle of living in a box, hiding behind emotional barriers that I’ve always fallen back to even after acknowledging it the first time.
Being at the writer’s workshop, listening to every piece of unique writing, thinking to myself why I couldn’t write as beautifully or as intricately as everyone else present there, I was about to fall into a vicious cycle of self-loathing again. I kept thinking why I couldn’t write like that anymore, like everyone else does, like I used to, until someone made me own up to the fact that I had not forgotten how to write, I’d just stopped. I’d just stopped writing. And this saved me, again.
All the writers present there who shared my passion in life, who weren’t hesitant to share a piece of themselves because they knew they were amongst their kin, saved me through their writings.
Editor’s note: This blog was written as an experience of the third edition our Writer’s Meetup. If you want to take part in our events in future, do check out our Facebook page.