Why I started this blog

Life has taken an unexpected turn. It is still a good life, both objectively and subjectively. I have shed much of my naivety. There's definitely more clarity, more awareness, less (or controlled) romanticism, but I have lost an important part of myself in the process. An aspect of myself that helped shape my formative years and interests that I hope to nurture and invest in for the rest of my life.

I have become too self-conscious. I have choked my mind up with too many thoughts. Thoughts that should have paved way for creativity have become roadblocks. I have let in too many voices into my head. I have turned insecure.

I need to let go. I need to be able to write because I love to write. Over the years, I started to associate my love for this craft with grander, larger-than-life aspirations. Now when I actually stop and search for the tiny kernel I started out with, I find it weighed down by everything I have stacked atop it. Its light has grown dim. I make no mistakes because I seldom attempt, and each futile overture ends with a complacent hope for the future where circumstances will line up and I will eventually write, eventually deliver. 

I hope to unlearn and go back to the start. 

I want to go back to the girl that loved and believed in the simple magic of words. 

I want to take back what I know now, but always hold tight the girl that started all of this. To the girl that wanted to be the historian of her own life.

I want to be unafraid of making mistakes. Not let words fester in my mind. Put them out there for better or for worse.

Let me make mistakes. Let me be uninhibited. Let me just express myself because that's all I wanted to do before I weighed them down with borrowed ambitions.

I want to go back to the girl that wrote this poem in 2013, to the girl dizzy with the possibilities that words have to offer. I want to come back to myself before I go anywhere in this world.

  "Yes, I'm high.

But not on coke or marijuana or heroin.
I'm high on all these black lettered words,
Sprawled generously on the papers and boards.

Yes, I hallucinate.
But not the type in which you lose your head.
I see Harry Potter, Alice and Scarlett O'Hara 
dueling the Red Queen on the fields of Tara.

Yes, I'm addicted.
But I don't drink, snort or smoke.
I inhale these stories through my brown irises
And pour them into my brain where intoxication flourishes.

And when my verbal drugs exhaust...

A blissful withdrawal syndrome engulfs me;
Feet off the ground, 
I start traveling my life
On a train of thoughts.

 ~Withdrawal Syndrome, Dharini"