On writing

Writing, I have always believed is something which just comes, involuntarily- a paroxysm of thoughts spread out on a piece of paper or as is the case here, scattered as little black pixels on a white screen. Somewhat like a sneeze which you have no control over. It just comes, when it has to come, you know- Achhooooo! I like succumbing to its power. Writing is my catharsis and redemption. Even when it's complete nonsense or crappy, sentimental, overtly maudlin bullshit. It relaxes me, cheers me up and it lets me be. It offers me those rare moments when I am not saying or doing a thing just because i am supposed to. Even somewhat lacking and a little raw, it's satiating. It's encouraging to see a piece of my seldom used mind and relieving to not have to conform to the usual rules. It surprises me sometimes to go over old posts- to feel it all again through the eyes of a stranger. I write because i don't want to forget, because i want to know what i think and also because i want to be read. 

I have been terribly missing my writing demon for a lately,scared to think that i might have been exorcised of it for good. Thankfully, it's still here and i don't know why it didn't make an appearance all these days. Much happened in the past few months- including me graduating. I could have written about college getting over. But there was no point in writing about it really. College and i had a weird relationship and it has ended like an awkward break up.I would rather leave it as an unresolved chapter than take upon the cumbersome task of getting a closure. I could have written about not clearing the final round of getting into a college entirely different from mine. I could have written about my annoyance at everyone wanting to marry me off at twenty freaking two.I could have written about my month long ordeal at having to cook and clean while mum was away,about the panic of being responsibilities suddenly being thrust upon my shoulders, about the feeling of pride at being called immature. Conversations, arguments, encounters- amusing and great for reading. Was it because i didn't want to revisit these past months? Because I don't want to feel the way i had been feeling, again? Because i was sick of my narcissistic musings? Or may be it was something less dramatic like lethargy.Possibly. I hit the snooze button quite a few times and it's nice to be awake. It's nice to be able to write again.