My Writing: I Live By My Own Words

I am disturbed by the tedious reality that we are taught to inhabit. We sit there as the clock remains still, accepting the colorless outcome of silence. With every tick and click, we wait for some burst of light to shine within our minds, but we tend to contain too much gray to see beyond that light. Well, I am not part of “we”. I live by my own words, to “let colors conquer the realistic mind.” That is what I strive for. Nothing captivates me more than conceiving perspective of the world by adding a pinch of imagination. It is the way I express myself. The feeling of drifting the explicit outlines clinched in my mind into my fingertips is irreplaceable. With a dainty pencil placed in my right hand, and an unmarked paper in front of me, I outset sensations of color. With every stroke of graphite, an image is being born that once lived in the depths of my mind. Seeing my imagination come to life …show more content…
So I did both. Though the difference is my soul is put into every word written on the paper. Writing has become my main interest; often times I catch myself writing when sleep becomes challenging to drift into. Something about writing shatters my silence, my heart is free to speak. My fingers create stories by dancing across the pages. With this dance, most are capable of taking a glimpse of every harrowing weep, ounce of fiery, or outburst of joy behind my words. We speak everyday, but not everyday do we let the words speak to us. I find inspiration by turning to my heart, using feelings that are glued to me. There are no limits to the creative world of writing; with just a pen, I fall into an ocean of colors, the only kind of drowning that makes me feel alive. The concept of having my own sense of reality just within a single drop of ink captivates my very existence. Writing is the key to my heart. If you were to ask me what stops time, I would simply say this: A pen and a