I had a conversation with a friend last night who wanted us to meet up on Friday evening and I told them I would be attending Eve of Poetry. This is the first and only place I ever shared my writing with a live audience. No wait, I did one other on a different platform. Anyhow, he gets all excited about coming with me, thinking that I would be performing only for me to burst his bubble and go like, ‘Nope. I will be part of the audience.’ And he did sound disappointed. And that got me thinking ‘ What happened?’

I cannot really remember what made me stop. Okay, I say life became busy, but like I blasted a friend of mine the other day, busy is just a convenient excuse we use to not do certain things, and it does sound very legitimate I must say. I got busy with work and series’, which do nothing for my creative juices of course. I mean, when was the last time I just took time out to read a book? It takes me way much longer to finish a book nowadays because half the time I am catching up with a series. I think I now agree with my friend who threatens to sell my dvd player. It is not healthy. I am losing touch with the core of me!

The last time I went on such a sabbatical from writing was in high school. This was after someone stole my book of poems which I held very dear and considered my best works then. It created this vacuum and I simply refused to write for a while. And now, I am in that drought again. Okay, as an adult, maybe it is the fear of the next person being too awesome than I am. It is the comparisons and me feeling like I can’t but then I cannot expect to be on the same level with someone who has a date with his pen and paper on a daily basis. I cannot compare with someone who writing is a priority while to me it is an option. I started blogging and I thought this allows me to not do my poetry. I miss it much and I think it is about time for me to reconnect with that part of me.

Writing keeps me sane; it calms me down; it helps me to focus; writing is my drug.

xxx

Imperfectous.

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