About w i gg l e R o 0 O m

Humbly titled: Self Reflection (written Feb. 8th, 2007)

I haven’t written in a while.
I wonder if I had lost my writing abilities. (Losing something that comes so naturally to you. Now that’s what I call a scary thought.)

Over the years writing has become a neat little habit, providing me with so much release that I found quite irresistable. When I write, I feel a swarm of tabloid reporters, constantly digging for gossip buried deep in that pile of nerves and muscle called the brain, trying to find every detail suitable for the day’s edition.

Lately, I haven’t been able to find that feeling. I have been giving away too much information verbally. Strange, really. I don’t find myself to be much of a talker. It must not takeover my night time relief, I reminded myself.

So what if I really lost it? What then? I am already at a cross-road, not knowing where to go and falling behind, as if I was repeating my senior year in highschool. I wonder what my back-up plan will be if I don’t get into what I said I want. Questions arose while staring at the application package on my desk. Do I really want this? or this? or perhaps I should try that!

Even with the encouragment from friends and parents, I know I still have a lot of polishing to go through if I am to make a living out of what I enjoy doing the most: writing. Writing, or simply keying letters on my laptop using WordPad, is almost the same as mapping out my train of thought for the day. Without it, I function abnormally and talk too much, which has happened numerously since the new semester began. Without it, my brain activity decrease and I fear the worst. Without writing, I wouldn’t succeed in this brave new world.

Writing has been with me ever since the beginning. It is probably the only thing that knows me best. I put my heart and soul, strength and weakness, and my emotions and feelings all into this fundamental device. I trust it because it reflects what I think and believe in. At the end of the day, it does not criticize nor give advice. It, in a sense, becomes an imaginary friend that has been handicapped from the very beginning sice it cannot actually speak nor hear, and the worst of all, it cannot think. Nonetheless, I love this friend and it’ll always be with me wherever I go, whenever.

Afterall, with just a little bit of wiggle room and your soul, an ever-lasting creation and perhaps an innovating and enjoyable one for others, will be born.