Writing gives me the feeling of being able to convey what's on my mind. It would always make me feel accomplished. Fulfilled.
I have not written seriously for the past few years. Last time I remembered to do so was when I was part of the Nursing publication in UC-Banilad, The Penlight. That was not even a very serious thing, because I was concentrating more on my studies.
I can still remember those days in high school at the UC Main Campus when I was just a contributor of poems. I wanted to become a member of the staff, so they made me one.
It came to a point that I was being eyed as the editor-in-chief. Almost-editor-in-chief, that is. My mom so conveniently transferred me back to La Salle the school year when I was supposed to sit as EIC.
Too bad.
After that, I was too shy to venture into another publication. Thinking about it today made me realize that I didn't have enough guts to do it. Maybe I thought to myself that I was not a writer material.
Now, even my poetry is so rusty I cannot form any sensible phrases.
When will I feel fulfilled again? Blogging helps, but I truly envy the people I know who have pursued writing as their job. It feels great to do what you love and get paid for it. Too bad for me.
But all is well.
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