It’s a funny thing to finally start collecting moments you don’t want to write about.
For me, writing is my therapy. It’s how I slow down my mind and teach myself to listen to what I am trying to say. Most of the time, everything in my head is always twirling, spinning, running, moving. Most of the time, I speak with a slight stutter because my tongue can’t keep up with the waterfall of thoughts that are screaming to pour out me.
Writing for me, is how I understand what all of those thoughts are. What they look like, how they make me feel, and if they are even valid or not. I’ve realised sometimes, my thoughts lie to me. As soon as I rugby wrestle my malicious mind to the ground and chain it to paper through my pen or keyboard, those thoughts are no longer haphazardly spinning loose in my brain.
But with these new stories, I have no temptation to write them down. Because, I don’t want to lose them. I refuse to write them down, at least not yet, because a little while these stories and memories are allowed to rage around my mind.