They asked me why do I write? I kept silent not because I didn’t have an answer but because I had too much to say. I write because I don’t know there is a life possible without it, I write because I don’t know how to live without writing. Because it seems like the most natural thing to do, like my hands were made to hold a pen and rest it on a page and scrawl words across it. Painting the page with ink and shapes. It brings out the best in me. And, it reminds me who I really am; just a girl who wants to write.
This great urge to write; it is both a curse and blessing at once. It’s like a prison with no lock. You’re free and bound at once. A paradox really.
I write because, for me, it’s not a part, but a way of life.
I write because I have to. Because the need is greater than almost everything else. And this need presides over my life.
Home is where someone protects your heart. Where you can wear your heart on the sleeve. Where you laugh louder. Where sadness doesn’t mean fear. Where you have the freedom to enjoy the pain, to cry. Where a hug is never far away. Where you learn what love means, better than any dictionary can teach you. Where you have your own space but no need of hiding.
Home is not a place.
It is a feeling.
Of being free.
Love, like seasons, changes.
Sometimes, love rains.
Sometimes, it is cold. Piercing.
Sometimes though, love burns.
Brighter than summer sunshine.
Because seasons come and go.
Just like love.
So Vivek Tejuja, a. k. a @vivekisms on Twitter, does this thing where he gives us a theme to write on, anything which we fancy; only it has to be constrained within 55 words. We submit the entries and he then publishes it to his blog: http://55words.blogspot.in/
By the way, I am @AGirlOfHerWords; today’s topic was Map/Maps, and this what I submitted.
First, a poem:
Wind in her hair, softly caressing her skin.
The tingling warmth of the dark night,
silence was the music she made.
She needed no one, she needed no maps.
She was born free, and now she was living it too.
Now, it was just her, and nowhere to reach.
Second, a story:
She was lost. You could see her big eyes widening in despair. She wondered again how she lost her way, forever wondering, forever wandering. She was sure she had, finally, found her way, her way to his heart. Maps, she thought, they should make maps for hearts too. She carried on, she’ll keep looking.
P.S: Found out only one entry can be published, so my second one was.
Death is the answer. Death is always the answer.
Your whole life leads up to it. Every second you live is a second closer to ‘The End’.
You spend your whole life learning to live when no one will teach you to die.
The most ignored truth, the universal truth, the truth which makes us all, one of a kind.
You are after all as sure to die as anybody else in the world.
And then when we have to, when we want to, we want to live again, because we never really lived, because we were never really going to die.
What a waste. Instead of living like we are mortals, we die thinking we are immortals.
We must learn, we must accept the final truth, the last truth; to live in the truest sense of the word.
And when I judge no one’s life, no one should judge me in my death.