I don’t know why I’m even writing this. It’s been months since I really put my heart on writing. When I’ve started this blog, I thought that my passion of writing has taken me to a new level. Everything was good in the beginning, but as days passed, the determination went down. I wanted my articles to be helpful. I wanted my articles to be interesting. And last but not the least, I wanted my articles to have content. I don’t know about other writers in the world, because as far as I believe, the articles people write come from their own experiences. My life is different. Yeah, you may say that everyone’s life is different from others but, what I meant is that even when people have their own, different lives, they’ll have things in common. And this applies to me very rarely. In fact, it was the choice I made. I chose not to live like everyone. In everything my fellow people do, I wanted to be different.
Yes, being different is not a gift, it’s a choice. I enjoyed this difference in the beginning but as time passed, I started to realize. People like to talk to people like them, they don’t like to mingle with other kind of people. Or at least, they won’t be so close to them. This made me far from many people, or at least it made me feel I don’t belong there. When you want to prove your uniqueness, you need to be different. And when you want to be different, you lose somethings. This is life, or at least, my life. We all know that even if many differences persist, we are all the same. But that feeling inside, will not let you accept it.
I write things for students. I suggest, I warn, I teach, but sometimes I can’t follow what I say. And then I’ll ask to myself, “It’s you who wrote them, and you can’t follow them?” That question is not wrong. All the posts below this one in the blog are written by me, and I read them now and then because even I need some inspiration at times. Almost a year ago, I wrote an article on overcoming stage fear, but even now I cannot speak in front of five people, standing before them. And I thought that my post on overcoming stage fear did not work and wanted to remove it off the blog, but a friend said that the same post helped him give his first seminar in the college. So, what does it prove? I write, but I cannot receive it. It’s like a movie making. A director does not feel the story because he already knows that the people are ACTING in the movie. The writer knows the content and the concept of the article. So he doesn’t care. And that is why my own posts bring no effect on me. I’ve learnt this.
I said that I’ve got a feeling that I don’t belong to the others. That made me an insecure person. I cannot express things as they are when I talk to people. I cannot ask. I cannot even ask permissions. I don’t know what runs in your mind when I say this but, I was unable to ask permission to write an exam in the college, and lost my percentage by half. My friends just went, they asked, they wrote. And it was too late by the time I got my guts to ask. This is because of the environment I lived in. This is because the choices I have made. And I have learnt this in my life: For every choice you make, you need to pay something.
I know that my college mates and school mates are going to read this before the world reads. I just have one thing to say to you guys: You may be thinking that there’s no point in writing all these things to the world. But I wrote this just because I wanted to share. I can’t speak, so I write.