I can't pronounce "S".

For a few months now, i’ve been questioning why i love writing.Why, penning words and paragraphs appealed to me and why i get excited whenever i see books, or feel the crispness of pages. Why i believed vehemently that no form of writing should ever be regulated or disallowed. Writing to me seems as natural as talking, only everything i write or type is printed out in black and white.

And for a few months now, i realize why i loved writing. Not because it’s a hobby, or a sport, not because it’s something that i am fairly okay at and not because i wanted to win prizes and make others feel redundant.I write because, like Anais Nin said :

"If you do not breathe through writing,
if you do not cry out in writing,
or sing in writing,
then don't write,
because our culture has no use for it."

Why write if you are going to see the worst in others writing? Why write if you do not use your heart or promise yourself to it? Why judge, if you are not one who would try to understand another person’s perception and vision? I am in love with words, and i will wait, with cupped hands, for them to overflow.

Words cant save us, i would admit. Not all things make sense and sometimes words fall short of the bigger picture. But i see how people around me are bounded and tied up in all types of predicaments and dissatisfaction. It scares me to know that whatever i say, whatever words i write or try to reason with, it wouldnt make a small dent of improvement to how they are feeling.

I see sacrifice in most of their faces and then i see the faces of those who have changed.Those who i cannot seem to speak to without feeling like i am talking to someone else entirely. There is almost nothing i can say or write or offer to try to make all of these things clearer. All i can do is watch everything unfold, like a terrible nightmare as every part of the road we’re walking on, is peppered with potholes and traps.

Do we have what it takes to let the past go and move on? Do we know each other and ourselves well enough to make all of this better? Are we strong enough to brave the undertow together? No one can fully justify who we are, no one can ever take our purposes away from us.

There are so many parts of the things that had happened, and are happening now, where you can see right through all the obstacles.

This time everyone has the best intentions. But everything’s lost in translation. Two years from now, would of all these things that are happening matter to you? Would it shape who you are, mould you and make you a person you will be proud of? Would it matter if you won or you lost, if you are belittled in other eyes, others who are not inclined to even remember you after you leave, would it matter if you gave up, would it matter if you emerged on top or kept to yourself or if you fought for your own right? Would it matter if you got what you wanted, if you wore a red tie, if you have a badge on your blazer or a position under your name? Would it matter?

Or are the people who actually know you, who cares abt everything you are and made of, the ones who would make all the difference to you?

I cant watch this, and feel nothing. I feel everything.