Second blog post, over a year later.

So, last year, when I started this blog, I vowed to be honest, daring and true to myself. And yet, I never once posted again during 2019. Technically speaking, I didn’t break the vow, but I also didn’t uphold it. How can I call myself honest, daring and true to myself when I didn’t even try to write?

That’s why this post is called “Write: ANYTHING.” The most common advice I hear about writing is “just WRITE.” It’s pretty good advice, but it can also be pretty hard to do these days. I used to write daily; I kept a journal from third grade until freshman year of college, ELEVEN YEARS. I wrote countless poems, short stories, ideas…I even enjoyed writing academic papers. Life has gotten so busy now…when I have free time, I am lazy.

Oh, you’re wondering what happened? I don’t know, really. I wrote about love and death and fear. Darkness and sadness and hope and light. And now I write nothing. Part of me wonders if I was purging my teenage angst and now I’m angst-free and haven’t learned how to move on in my writing. So, instead I stopped altogether. I matured and my writing was left behind.

I mean, life does get in the way. It’s what everyone says, because it’s true. I have a whole life now with a steady and healthy relationship, a full-time job, two cats and I’m pretty happy most days. For me, happiness does not allow me to write in the same way. I was always better at writing about dark and depressing things.

Plus, I have this fear…don’t laugh…I have this fear that if I write about things that make me happy, that they will leave me. It’s happened before–quite a few times, coincidence or not, and I don’t want to risk it, I guess. It doesn’t feel like an excuse to not write. It feels like a genuine fear. I’m terrified to lose the things that I love. I think that’s a bigger story for another day, but there’s so much holding me back from writing.

But besides fear of abandonment, there’s something within me that is also afraid that nothing I write will be good enough. People used to tell me I was a good writer. Now, whether they were just saying that because I was a kid, I don’t really know. But, I believed them. I believed I would be a great writer one day. Did that day come and go? Did I miss my opportunity? “It’s never too late,” you may be thinking. I hope that’s true.

Let’s pretend it is true, for a second. How would I even get started? Yes, I started a blog. A blog that I posted on ONCE in a whole year. Writing is a habit, a habit that has escaped me. Okay, so how does one get back into the habit? Write: ANYTHING. Just put the words down. Right?

Growing up, my father always told me I had this “great potential.” I even wrote a fictionalized story about it. I was so intimidated by my own potential, that I shied away from it like it was the plague. I know he still thinks I haven’t reached that potential. And I am constantly afraid of letting everyone down. But, what if he’s wrong? Or what if I don’t know how to achieve it? Or what if I’m afraid to.

I used to daydream about English classes teaching my poetry. Now, it feels impossible to reach that level of achievement. I have no idea how to get there. I have no idea how to get better.

Just write anything down…is that really the answer? What if it’s bad, what if I don’t get better? What if no one likes it or even reads it? Is the point of writing for others to read your words? Or is it for yourself? I used to write only for me. I didn’t care who read it or what they thought of it. I was purging emotions and writing was the only way I felt better. Have I outgrown it? How can I start over again?

I never even had to try to write before. I would feel things and the words would pour out of me like butter. Sometimes, when I would reread my own work, I didn’t even recognize or remember writing certain things. It was almost like I would go into a state while writing. I can’t recall the last time that happened for me.

That was euphoria.

Once, I remember writing a PAGES long poem about the minute that night turns to day. I was so moved by the thought of every beautiful thing that happens in that one minute. I haven’t experienced that kind of writing in probably ten years.

I miss it. This blog was created as an attempt to get back into the habit. Which last year, clearly, I failed to do. But, all we can do is try again.

All I can do is write: ANYTHING.

Thank you for listening.

Ilaria ♥

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