Read, right?

I’ve been trying to write longer posts. And I’ve been successful in failing to write longer posts. This idea of words just flowing through the mind, travelling into the fingers, and appearing on the screen is not an idea I’ve seen come to life. maybe others are far better at this sort of thing. For me, writing has always been a passion. But I always find myself in a terrible place when I want to write. How best should I express myself in detail? And I always end up chucking that idea out for a poem. It’s short, precise and people come up with their own interpretations which is always fun.

I’ve also been reading quite less. Much less than ideal. And that seems to have stunted my growth. It gets difficult to be able to write if you are away from words. It’s not like someone is holding my hand, stopping me to read. It just a crutch I seem to have given myself by disguising it as necessary. Sort of psychosomatic issue. The thing is, what I’m going through my life makes me feel that doing anything that makes me happy is a waste of time. That I’m digging myself a bigger hole by wasting time with reading novels and writing poetry. The only reason I’ve been able to write something is the habit I was able to sustain for an year.

But reading wasn’t regular. I took breaks. Long breaks. And now it feels as if starting again would take a lot of courage. And a lot of time that I want should be giving to the task at hand. I feel confused and disoriented making this decision. But how could I write if I don’t read? I just wish to clear this hurdle as soon as possible. So that I won’t have to worry about things making me happy.


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