With Christmas and new year coming up
I’d really like to believe that happy moments are better off lived out, than written down. It made more sense to me to write about the loneliness and the heartbreak and the pain —all those things I wanted to forget about. Because my primary purpose for writing was catharsis, and hardly anything else. I wrote almost every night, just before going to sleep, so I could liberate myself from everything that was making it hard for me to breathe, as if with each stroke of the pen tiny fragments of the loneliness, of the heartbreak, of the pain, were released from within, until they were no more. At least for the night.
And so I hardly ever wrote about happy things. I felt like they didn’t deserve to be let out and allowed to escape from me. I wrote under the premise that writing meant trying to let go, and not writing meant trying to contain them all.
But because this life is a new one, and I’ve got a full one right now and up ahead, let me write. Let me write so I could make memories, so I could keep track, so I could relive my moments incessantly. Let me write, because even if I do allow the happy things to escape me, I know there’d always be more. In this full life that I have in Christ, I know I can never possibly run out.
It’s exactly that that this life is made of.
With Christmas and new year coming up
I’d really like to believe that happy moments are better off lived out, than written down. It made more sense to me to write about the loneliness and the heartbreak and the pain —all those things I wanted to forget about. Because my primary purpose for writing was catharsis, and hardly anything else. I wrote almost every night, just before going to sleep, so I could liberate myself from everything that was making it hard for me to breathe, as if with each stroke of the pen tiny fragments of the loneliness, of the heartbreak, of the pain, were released from within, until they were no more. At least for the night.
And so I hardly ever wrote about happy things. I felt like they didn’t deserve to be let out and allowed to escape from me. I wrote under the premise that writing meant trying to let go, and not writing meant trying to contain them all.
But because this life is a new one, and I’ve got a full one right now and up ahead, let me write. Let me write so I could make memories, so I could keep track, so I could relive my moments incessantly. Let me write, because even if I do allow the happy things to escape me, I know there’d always be more. In this full life that I have in Christ, I know I can never possibly run out.
It’s exactly that that this life is made of.
Posted 2 months ago 3 notes
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