This week was ideally one of my good weeks. This blog of mine took off really well, and I have you guys to thank for that!
I had started blogging years ago and earned decent money from it too,gained a massive following but then I decided to delete it one fine morning.Yes I was dumb .But something in me broke that day.I hated that piece of me , I just wanted it to be erased and just like that my blog disappeared from the face of the internet and my life.
Everything triggered it, and I couldn’t handle it. People saw me broken and had so many assumptions. Some friends of mine even called me “dark and twisted” because my poetry genre was that. One day, it was just the tip of the iceberg when a friend of mine told me that I have two completely different personalities when it comes to the friend they know and the blog they read. I was so scared of people around me having opinions that I stopped blogging . Initially , i thought I would take a week off and get back to it .But whenever I sat down to write , i could see weird gazes and interpretations of me running in their head , some even vocalising it clouding the words and my emotions and I couldn’t put anything on the paper .I was scared , scared to be not accepted . And that made me claustrophobic, my own poetry made me claustrophobic.And I decided to stop blogging.
Now that I think about it, I knew it was immature of me to do that, but that 19 year-old didn’t know any better! Even people’s compliments felt fake and a conversation starter. They assumed I was too smart, but I wasn’t. I just had some teeny tiny creative juices flowing in my overthinking brain. Sometimes, I hate myself for that because I really want to shut my brain down and give myself a break too.
But now I have regrets. I have regrets about killing my baby when it was at its highest point. Regrets of disappointing lakhs of people , regrets that maybe my old blog would have reached at a height that I could never fathom.But looking back, would I do it again? Yes . A complicated answer for a very simple question .This “yes” has so many layers attached to it. The insecurities in me wasn’t happy with the immense response that it got. Even with this blog, the views, likes, and comments all seem so surreal as I have just started. The fear of being inside that glassbox someday is something that I am constantly working on, trying to not let it tackle me down again this time.I know all this sounds like I m selfish and all I care for is numbers . Honestly, no.I’m not a number person, but I do like to be appreciated and being acknowledged for what I write. Because growing up, I wasnt. Trauma does have a boomerang effect.I guess so !! The warmth of you guys relating to it keeps my juices flowing , sparks my creative wires, keeps me going.
Why am I writing this? Because today I felt the same thing—the fear of being judged for what I write? Would I be considered “dark and twisted” or am I mature enough? The overthinking went on overdrive till I started scribbling in my diary, and I honestly realized I couldn’t change the way people look at me. Some may consider me annoying, others too intellectual, and some crazy, but the real ones know me for me. Like me for who I am—and poetry is a part of me—this chaotic mess of words ,wittiness and emotions.
And I missed blogging. Seriously, I missed writing poetry and putting it out there, and I guess it’s okay. Because this is how I am true to myself, by being the real me. It was so hard to stay away from all this for the past two years, and I also know for a fact my writing isn’t at its peak, but it’s okay because I write for myself;i m happy , in a safe space of my own as the perfect poetry for me is my own.
Why did I crib so much today? Because today I had a conversation with my friend about how he missed my poetry and our open mics. He told me he missed my writing, and that’s when I opened up to him about my fears and the cycle of thoughts that led me to that standstill. He said I was an idiot, which I agree with, but moreso, I was too scared of being overwhelmed by people’s opinions and these rationalizations of the type of person that I was just because of my poetry, as I was used to being on the sidelines. It took me a lot of time to accept the broken, unbroken me, but I’m happy. happy to be back .
It’s so easy to fall into prejudices, and I just want to tell you it’s okay. But what’s more important is to pick yourself up and surround yourself with the louder voices of empathetic people who can shut the voices in your head. Because sometimes we do make dumb decisions, but what matters is how we deal with them afterwards and the choices we make to counter them.
Is it a philosophical class ? No , but I wanted to put it out there , I am not a perfect writer , nobody is . I have made dumb decisions and it’s okay .Just write for yourself , do what makes you happy . People can create illusions but what matters is how you paint them in your head .It took me a long time to figure this out . Letting go of all this wasn’t easy but i am glad I am painting my castle on my own .I am glad to have your back because I promise to be better.
P.s . Yes , this isn’t a typical blog format with a proper structure but Im happy with it nevertheless , the chaos in me is what comes on my blogs and thats what makes it real and me. I promise I wouldn’t leave you guys stranded this time.
Thanku for staying till the end!!!