Silence

Sometimes you don't want to write in legible form of writing. I feel that way these days. I feel that when you understand what you are writing and when you understand at one point that all writing is directed towards readers but than you find it meaningless. You find we write to liberate our souls from burden we carry everyday on our shoulders-to vomit inner demon outside.

But I feel that way is not way of salvation. Each piece of writing seems to me like a silent monologue. It seems to me like when we lose our speech we lose our writing too. When people don’t let us talk –it creates some anxiety and we want to write it. We write it and we release our tension-

This seems all silly. As sometimes things remain same whether you write ten times or ten thousand times. Nothing changes, inside or outside. You seem like a beggar. One who wants to sell his pain, ideas, misery, goodness or whatever shit you have.

However, public never cares about you or your writing or anything like that.  You feel we live a life of hypocrisy. Where people forget their promise and you have to pretend that yes they don’t know anything and you don’t know anything too.

You have to behave like you are always good and brave and you never need anyone and you should never be angry to anyone and always pretend that you have smile for others and even for those who think you never exist for them.  If you don’t do this acrobatics people will  think you are mentally sick or you have problem as you been too much demanding or you asking for too much attention.

However when it comes to you- you feel it differently. Your world seems ruined. You seems not interested in anyone else-you just want to mourn your lose.  You forget at that point that someone might be suffering because of your this attitude. But you become so much lost in your silent, secret, and mysterious world that you don’t have even a moment to think about others.

I love writing. I breathed in writing.  People like your writing when you are published or when you have fame. I never care about this shit. My writing is like my world-where I live in peace and tranquility with my dreams and with the possibility of love and fearlessness.

But I do feel that people don’t understand whatever we write is not always result of beautiful aesthetics and rhetoric exercise to demonstrate your creative writing skills –but it all comes from you surroundings.  For me writing is path of utterance of pain, anxiety, depression and silence- and I hide it from others. I use abstractions to not to hurt to those who hurt me. I feel all this wisdom, knowledge, cleverness, religiously, morality, ethics, sense of justice, and knowing burdens me each day not to write whatever I feel in true way. I feel knowing is not just to understand something. Knowing is name of doing in silent way as to do justice with everyone in calmness.

I feel at the same time this silence is increasing my burden each day where I am losing my existentialism. I feel it is hard to do justice with others and yourself at the same time.  I feel that I need to wear gears of invisibility. I feel when writing and not writing end-up at the same state of mind-at that point you feel tired and want to hide yourself. You want to be silent-as words-which were your tools to help your handicapping- has lost all sanctity and you no more want to talk, listen, and write.

I miss unconditional, and undefined, moments of love, friendship and liberation of body and soul.

I am sorry I can’t write..