Too sad to write
…but it would be just as sad to let it go.
I have always loved writing. But there are times when I’m too sad to write. Yeah, I understand that it should be the other way around. But for me, most of the time it’s my sadness that hinders me from doing what I love doing the most.
There are times when I wonder whether I should keep writing or not. When I was younger, I did not care at all if my works would ever be published, if they would ever be read. I would be happy so long as I write. But as time passed, I thought that my works also need to see the light of day — hopefully in book form.
But to make that happen, of course, is never easy. Working with books in my day job, I should know better.
And after a few rejected submissions and months (or over a year?) worth of writer’s block, I feel like giving up. I know I had to improve my writing for as long as I live, for as long as I can write. But the thought of brushing up on your writing skills for nothing — add to that hectic work schedules, mood swings, and other stuff I have to deal with — overwhelms me.
I have always said I would probably go crazy if I stop writing. But if I write only to see all these crap pile up in one corner of my room (or in my laptop/phone’s memory), won’t a person in his/her right mind tell me that I must be crazy, and stop writing?
And of course, it’s sad — depressing even — to see such a pile.
But whenever an idea comes to mind and grips me with that excitement to write it down, what do I do? I write.
I still write.
When I find my written work unsatisfying, either I keep it as a draft and revise it whenever I can; or worse, delete it for good — and in a few instances regret the latter afterward.
And when I feel I have said everything I wanted to say in a story or an article like this, find relief in having poured out my heart by pen and paper (but recently it’s been more of keyboard and computer screen), and think it might help other people in one way or another, that story ends up here, in my other blogs, or in my draft folder as well, to be improved on while waiting for the right time for it to be shared to the world.
Like Sisyphus keeping on pushing the rock up only to watch it roll down again so that he has to push it again, I still write, low or zero stats and rejections be damned. The comfort of laying down your burdens — yourself — through writing still outweighs the sadness of getting a few or no reads at all.
Can I have a ❤️? Or a comment? 😊