I am back to writing again after a year or so, all this while I have just thought about writing again but didn’t get to doing it.
Why today, I am distressed, yes like many times but something is different today. It’s a strange feeling may be like time slipping away in front of my eyes and I look at it doing nothing.
This new journey that I am about to take from today will take me through various moods and nuances, sometimes happy and many times not.
A writer has always been quoted as someone intelligent, I suppose. I strongly feel we are all intelligent but writers are more lonesome than intelligent. They deal with more conflict inside than anywhere else.
As a writer, I have been told by many people to write what readers like to read, a statement I have always found offensive. I write to ease my pain, I write so that I can find refuge from my inner conflicts. I write for my sanity.
Writing will always be about me, as for my readers if I can, even for a minute get their minds to start thinking, my job is done.