Tag Archive | writing

What Do You Want with Your Life?

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I’ve been nagging myself with that question in these past few months but I still don’t know what my ultimate goal is.

Sure, I want to be sucessful. I want a stable job and a simple life with a family. I want a life that I don’t have to worry about not being able to eat tomorrow. That I can provide for myself and my family. It was just a simple dream. But the thing is, it felt impossible. Unattainable. That I really have to go out of the country just to attain that. Because in here, my profession is in vain.

And there goes writing. I want writing to be my profession, not just a hobby, but my parents didn’t allow me to take any writing related courses so instead, I became a licensed Pharmacist. Not that I hate my current job. I love being a Pharmacist but I just don’t like the current practice here in my country.

I know I don’t need to have a degree just to write. But knowing you are well qualified still means something.

I know a lot of things. I read a lot. I know how to do them. But I still feel insufficient. I still feel useless.

Maybe I just missed my regular readers in college. Since we graduated, I barely see them. My colleagues at work don’t even read. I don’t understand why they never read novels. Probably, they never read a book that could amaze them. Or they were just so lazy to open and read one.

Sometimes, I want to hate my life. That I felt unlucky compared to others in my age. But I know it’s not true. I’m lucky. I get to do a lot of things I love. I can write anything I want.

But what do I want with my life?

Aside from those simple things, my ultimate goal probably is: To be able to share to the world my stories and novels and poems, hoping somehow they could inspire them. I know I have a lot to learn. And what I learned would be shared as well.

Or maybe, I am just insane. What about you? Do you have the same question in life?

Writer’s Depression

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For the past few days, I’d been suffering from–what I call–Writer’s Depression.

I got to a point that I no longer know what I want with my life.
That I was no longer sure if I should pursue on this writing path I’m in.
My real profession is also in vain.
I felt so pathetic and helpless.
I felt so useless even to my family.
That what I earn is never enough for my family.
That I thought of leaving this world for good.
I wished to sleep forever.

But I fought it.
I know those thoughts were not true.
A lot of people cares about me.
I’m in a plateau state of my current profession.
My writing career is only about to start, after I finished polishing this manuscript I’m working on.
Suicide is not an option.

I told myself:
I’m a fighter. I’m not giving up on this. I’ve been on this writing world for 9 long years and I can’t just stop now.
I’m still young. I have a long way to go. There are still a lot of people in this world who likes to read like me.

In Another Life

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If I’m gone, would you miss me?
Would you say world’s different without me?
I seriously doubt that
I never affected you the way you did to me
I’m just a trusted friend
Nothing more, nothing less
Maybe in another life
Maybe if I’m prettier
If I’m thinner
Or maybe taller
Or even fairier
But I’m still here
Always willing to listen
To understand you
To comfort you
Anything you want
For now, I’ll be your trusted friend
Until maybe in another life
You can finally see me…

(Free Verse IV)

~ a poem inspired by Katy Perry’s Song The One That Got Away
~ while editing / revising my novel, poetry muse strikes me even while commuting

Still You

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I miss you
I miss the way we were
I miss the way you open up to me
No restrictions
No holds barred
Now, there’s a gap I can’t bridge
A wall I can’t penetrate
If only I can turn back the time
But I never regret any of that
No matter the reason
Was it just lust or passion?
I don’t really want to know
I’m afraid of knowing the truth
Afraid of getting hurt
Although I already am
But I still want you
I still want to be with you

(Free verse III)

Just So You Know

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I don’t know what’s wrong
It’s complicated, yet it’s simple
It’s a ridiculous thought
It’s a gap I could no longer bridge
I don’t even know why am I doing this
I miss you,  don’t you know that?
I want to be with you
I don’t want you to go
But I’m confused as well as afraid
Of totally falling for you
Because I know you too well
I know what you’re capable of
I know how many hearts you broke
But I trust you well enough
To yield to you
I don’t know if it’s wrong
I don’t know what’s right
I am confused
I don’t know how to refuse
You, of all people
I’m such a fool
You are just using me
Yet I am still here
With broken heart and wounded soul
I can’t just let you go
Because after all we’ve been through
I still want you
I still want your arms around me
But, I don’t know if you feel that, too

(Free Verse II)

Fragments

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I want to sleep beside you

To feel your arms wrapped around my waist

To feel your heat comforting the coldness in my heart

But you are gone, like dust

Scattered fragments of a beautiful memory

I want to give you my heart

But you left without saying goodbye

You went cold, not telling me why

Maybe I have to let you go

Although you’ve never been mine…

(I’m not really used to composing free verse poems but as inspiration hit me, and probably the effect of the surprisingly cold weather, I created one.)

New Year, New Writing Phase

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karenswhimsy.com/public-domain-images/pictures-of-books/images/pictures-of-books-1.jpg

I swore to myself that I would finish my second run of editing this current novel I’m working on before the year ends. I did it. It was the reading it out loud phase. I caught few errors. I even deleted the boring parts and revised a lot with the help of my trusted friend/critic. I had to stop working on the sequel because I need to focus on editing this and even the whole plotline changed. It nullifies my previous sequels. It’s even a trilogy… awww. Now I have to rewrite them again. Everything. I will… soon.

Not that I’m complaining. It was my fault. I hurried the story. I just wanted to write and write without thinking through the whole story. Maybe because I’d written it when I was in my junior and senior years in college–which has nothing to do with writing–and my schedules were kind of hectic.

But no regrets. I had fun in the process. I don’t mind how many bondpapers and inks I have to waste throughout the years of my writing. I enjoyed everything. From cultivating the idea “what if…” until the tiring process of revision and editing.

I’ll probably let it rest for few days then I’ll deal with the finishing touches.

I hope, then, I can finally share it to the world…