It’s been exactly 20 days since I wrote my last blog .”THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MONEY’- 15 LIFE CHANGING LESSONS“.Surprisingly, I have 71 drafts pending to be edited. Tadaaaa!!!!
But right now, Honestly, the feeling of touching any of my drafts is overwhelming. It’s like a block of some sort. But the real reason is paranoia, writer’s dilemma and a continuous cycle of hate comments flooding in. It’s like a wave at this point. My highs and lows are a catastrophe.
In the hallowed hours of the night, my writing brain sparks in. The soft glow of the screen illuminates my dim room. And I find myself overwhelmed with words that cut deeper than any paper wound.Emails once promised connection, now bring hate.
Writing, once a sanctuary for me, now honestly feels like a battlefield where the wounds are invisible but painfully real.
The hate mail, whispers doubts in the quiet corners of my mind. Each word is a tiny blade, leaving scars that may not show but linger nonetheless. The criticism I once welcomed has morphed into a relentless assault.I am scared of what may appear in my inbox. Nights feel heavy with such words, but quitting now is not an option.
Spam comments, like ghosts of genuine engagement, haunt the spaces where my connections used to thrive. Amid the algorithmic noise and automated gibberish, I miss the the authentic exchanges which are now buried.
It has been a lonely journey for me to go through the artificial interactions and search for genuine connections that once fueled my passion for sharing stories. The comments section, which was once a source of warmth and community, now feels like a barren and desolate place. I yearn for real connections, yet the silence is all I get, and filtering and deleting it feels like a chore that I don’t want to do.
I want to explore new realms of book reviews that delve into the heart of literature because I tend to read a lot . I want to suggest book recommendations with you all too. I want to write about murder case files that unravel the mysteries of human darkness because I have always been interested in human phycology and murder mysteries. Yet, fear holds me hostage like a vice.
Will my departure from the familiar be met with acceptance, or will I be sabotaged? A lone wanderer in uncharted literary territory? The uncertainty keeps knocking at my overthinking brain, overshadowing the excitement that should accompany the pursuit of passion.
And then there’s poetry my favorite genre, a form of expression that once flowed freely from the recesses of my heart. Now, the verses are stifled, caught in the crossfire of expectations and the fear of being scrutinized. The desire to write becomes entangled with the pressure to conform. I find myself hesitating, questioning whether the words I long to share will be met with acceptance or met with indifference. That scares me.
Amid this struggle, the dream of authentic book reviews and the fascination with murder case files flicker like distant stars. The desire to immerse myself in the written word and explore the depths of human experience remains, but the path is fraught with uncertainty. Will the world embrace my authenticity, or will it demand a conformity that threatens to extinguish the flame that burns within?
In these moments of vulnerability, I realize that the emotional toll of online writing runs deep. It’s not just about crafting sentences and paragraphs; it’s about navigating a labyrinth of emotions, where the highs of creative expression are accompanied by the lows of doubt and fear.However, despite the threatening shadows that envelop me, I refuse to let the flicker of passion be extinguished.d.
In the quiet hours, when the weight of words becomes too much to bear, I hold on to the belief that writing is not just about the clairaudiences about the journey, the process of unveiling the layers of my soul through words. The struggle is real, the wounds are raw, but within the vulnerability lies the strength to persevere. For every hateful echo, there is a whisper of resilience, and in that delicate balance, I find the courage to continue navigating the labyrinth, hoping that, in time, the echoes of love and understanding will drown out the cacophony of hate.
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