You know what’s depressing?
It’s never the woe of not being able to get into universities, nor has it ever been the remaining $50 that sits quietly in the bank. It’s never the indescribable loneliness that often overwhelms on a crowded street, nor has it been the aftermath of being let down. It’s never the fear of rejection, nor has it been the separation anxiety. To me, and writers mostly, what’s depressing is losing our voices.
The thing about us, writers, is that every time we write we divulge a part of ourselves and show it to the rest of the world. And this is scary because this platform is almost comparatively similar to that of public speaking, just that we communicate with written words and you absorb the information through the voices in your head. It’s an astounding feat to gather up the courage and take a leap of faith every time we decide to show, not tell, a part of our life.
The thing is, we want to be heard. And unfortunately, we don’t always reach out to everyone. More often than not, the intended recipient – this one particular person – is isolated far from reach and any attempt to establish a connection is futile.
I have forgotten how many drafts I have erased over the last few days trying to write, many of which ended just as quickly as it started. I remember silently cussing each time I reluctantly punch the ‘delete’ button. I remember being frantic about the idea of having coherence, for the subject matter is either hard to pinpoint or is wholly absent. It seemed to me then I lost the sacred ability to write – the ability to string random words together forming complete sentences, and sentences into complete paragraphs, and paragraphs into a complete passage.
And I was darn right. I did lose my voice. Amid all the ruckus about trying to make the right decision, trying to fit in, trying to avoid confessing to the person I liked, trying to live up to expectations as a human – a child, a writer, a friend and a man , I lost touch with the language of words. I lost touch with my ability to connect the dots, I lost touch with being grounded, I lost touch with what I want to say. One of the most important things writing taught me is the brilliant satisfaction about a complete piece of article. The satisfaction of carefully nitpicking the right words or phrases through the vocabulary bank, the satisfaction of going through drafts after drafts of brainstorming and proofreading, the satisfaction of coming up with an original blueprint and crafting the masterpiece from the beginning to the end.
In the most unfortunate and inopportune time, I lost my voice, I lost it all.