“Why did you take writing to a public forum if you arent going to tell people about it?”
I sit in my half of her bunk wrapped in her blanket, cuddling her pillows, trying to think of an answer why. Fluffy stared at me with the same intensity as Batra’s glare when I refused to talk about my newly made blog and gave her panicked SOS wide-eyed gestures when Sarma, in her usual wandering conversation, meandered towards the whole issue of blogs.
(I wrote and rewrote that sentence thrice just to include the fascinating word “meander” whose presence seems to define a “good piece of writing” having come across numerous occasions where the word was used to sound fancy. So, here I am, the knower of big words, effortlessly nnavigating through an expensive French resturaunt menu.
Such jokes. Much funny.
“How do snakes laugh?”
“Are you listening?” says Fluffy slightly impatiently and I turn with a freshly screenshotted meme to change tracks. I know she knows the real purpose of the meme and that the forced enthusiastic laughter is just to avoid discussion but I dont think I want to discuss this. No matter what I might say, I still face a certain reluctance in putting out a self portrait of my brain through my vague mutterings and lines scribbled in the pages of a small notebook. Putting my brain out in the eyes of strangers is easier that leaving it for people near me to examine it and prod at its depths (or shallows).
I call this the failure of Theory of Mind inside my head, this paranoid thought of being misunderstood and subsequently wrongly labelled. The very thought of running into a batchmate reading my words sends every single cell of me into panic mode for I wonder how my writing changes people’s perception of me.
But mostly, I am struck by a bigger question. Why do we write if not for ourselves? Why do we create, imagine if not to satisfy the strain on our bones from the weight of all the lives not lived and all the thoughts not registered.
All this, sadly dismissed by the fabric of the universe contemplating the end of my short, happily anonymous stroll through words strung together in sentences as the fairy lights in my room.
One of my classes requires us to make a blog, a PUBLIC blog. The one people can see. And read. And talk about to you after they’re done examining it. The one grammar nazis can proof read and then hold lengthy converstaions about “how this could’ve been better written”. The one extra nice people can be extra nice about. The one people might scroll across. The one people might mindlessly “Like”.
Or a blog that people read and understand. The one that gives them something cheerful on a particularly sad day. The one they come back to because its actually good.
*insert motivational rhetoric question.
*insert smilies. Happy ones. (Stay away from those upside down frowny faces.)
*insert cool, catchy phrase signalling the end of this post that shall become a catchphrase later.
______._.___ ^_^ ___._.______
PS- I am having terrible hairfall and wonder how long will I take to wake up completely bald one day.
PPS- *insert apology for being too lazy and tired to think of stuff
PPS- If any of the three mentioned above find this, then-
Using cleverly constructed name instead of real names is cool and has been deemed cool ever since the first time James Bond was called ‘Double O! Seven’. Also,
*insert big smilies 🙂