Today, they introduced me as a writer, and honestly, I did not see that coming. People keep telling me, that I am a writer, but there is some part of me that still does not believe that.
Anyways so there I was being introduced as a writer, and then the irony struck me. The very same morning I was struggling with words to describe what I was feeling, and I failed. Then I tried completing my assignments, failed! And then I started working on a fictional plot, at which I failed again.
I am not talking about the writers’ block, I kept writing, I kept taking notes, I kept typing, but I was not satisfied with it, I still felt that the feelings were unclear, and what I was saying were mere words. But if they were words, then why was I feeling the absence of emotions. And if I had words, then was I not a writer after all? But then only putting words isn’t a writers job, his job is to bring even fiction to reality. So where was I going wrong?
I had words, but still I felt I was not a writer.
On second thoughts, I felt I did not even have the words, all I had was the feeling, the love, the hatred, required for being a writer. The words that I say I wrote, were not mine, they did not justify how I felt, how I wanted things to come out, they simply did a job of being portrayed as a writer’s work. They were just there on paper.
So now, I did not even have words, and yet I was a writer?