Dear Jane and other ramblings

Yesterday night as I was studying, I came across my journal. I call her Jane (on acount of Jane Austen) and as I opened it and read everything that happened throughout 2009, I was amazed at how far I've come this year. My journal had almost everything: Body issues, back-bitting friends, a secret crush (that isn't so secret anymore, though I still wish it was), family conflicts, skyrocketing schoolwork, the pressure to "keep up an image", and fantasies of a writer.

I haven't written to Jane in four months seeing that my last entry date was 15 August 2009. So yesterday, I picked up my pen and started writing. Though I didn't write all the things that happened in the space of four months (yes, A LOT of things happened) but I will eventually.

Writing, for me, is therapeutic. Its like all the solutions to my problems are all in my mind and I just have to organise every data and pour it out on paper and POOF!! The solution appears and my troubles are gone. And I didn't need to confide in anyone. But there are times that I need a second person's input so that I'm not being destructive or whatever. Plus, writing helps me see a different perspective. And I release my emotions a lot.

Thats why I've been writing so many poems and sonnets! Yes, even sonnets!
Writing helps me to also come to terms with myself. Helps me forgive myself and understand why I feel the way I feel. Though there are times that I really can't understand myself.

No wonder I think I'm a weird person.
Cause I don't know of anyone else who feels this way. Okay, except Weijean. She probably understands.

"Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Write, for example,

The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings...''

Pablo Neruda - Tonight I can write -


"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say"
~Anaïs Nin