Its been almost a year since I could even summon the courage to open my WordPress account and get writing. Truth is, I was so disillusioned with what I had to say. Why would anyone read my posts? Or rather, why should anyone? What can I say that will actually add meaning to anyone’s lives but mine? How would it be of any use to anyone apart from just feeding my misplaced ego?
Battling these questions and finding answers to them is a tedious process. I don’t have any of the answers yet. I have tossed and tumbled endless nights trying to figure out who I am and what I want to say. Who am I?
Simple? Materialistic? Kind? Subservient? Friendly? Clingy? Peaceful? Moody?
I DON’T KNOW.
And I’m not going to let myself be ashamed for it.
Years ago, during my teens, the concept of being a tomboy was very appealing. Mostly because I didn’t have an elder brother and I really wanted one. Mostly because I liked the no-nonsense air I had around me. Mostly because, I liked how easy and time-saving it was. Mostly because, it was a way to be different from everybody else.
But also, I was never really the sporty kind. So I started reading. Reading voraciously. Reading material that was considered weird for a 14 year old. Writing was always a part of who I was since I was a child, watching my grandfather spin magic on paper. It was an absolute delight to read his succinct sentences with just a touch of pompous embellishment that will make you go “Oooooh, that sounds rich”. My father on the other hand has a very distinct structured style of writing. There is a method, a metre, a process behind it.
So, I read and wrote and spoke and made this “my thing”. A niche, if you will. I became known for my passion for the language. This continued throughout my teens and still does. But only now, after I have started blogging, I realise how pretentious I sound.
Now I like to dress up. I like to be a bit girly. I like pink. I like the goth look too. I want to look simple and clean cut, but also edgy and flashy. I want to enjoy rap and I want to enjoy Eric Clapton. I want to be able to chill with the boys and pardy with the girls. I want to be everything there is to be. I want to be committed, but I want to have fun too. I want a highly intense corporate job, but I want to work for the underprivileged too. I want to be every single personality I see. Maybe I’m moody. Maybe I’m a chameleon. Maybe I have ADD and I get bored too easily. Maybe I’m so confused out of my mind that I don’t know my head from my behind.
A poem by Sylvia Plath comes to mind.
“I can never read all the books I want. I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
Point is, I am allowed to be all this. To want all this. To become all this.
Why not? Why not, if I believe I’m capable of it?
Stop labelling. Stop stereotyping. Stop fitting human beings into convenient little boxes in your head. No amount of personality tests and aptitude tests is going to tell you who you are.
The question is not who are you? It is who would you like to be?
You aren’t lost. You are yet to be created.
I am creating who I am. And who do I want to be?
Right now, this very instant, I want to write. I want my voice out there in the open, however pretentious it may seem.
I know for a fact that there are people who are million times better than I am, who can string words in a sentence like pearls on a necklace, who can make paragraphs flow seamlessly, who can make English seem like the God’s language, yet who don’t seem to strut around like they own the place.
Did I get served a piece of the proverbial humble pie? Maybe.
Has it shaken the very core of who I thought I was? Yes.
But does it mean I stop doing what I do? ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Maybe on the larger scheme of things, what I write may be insignificant. But it is significant to me. It is significant because it helps me build who I am. It is significant because every time I am able to put up a post, I know I started out trying to convey something and I was successful at it. That’s all writing is for. And yes, that makes me a writer.
Someday, I might have a million dollar publishing deal with hundreds of fans and a booker prize and all that shabang. But until then, these baby steps will teach me to walk, to fall, to crawl and to run.
And one day I shall run. I shall run.