TO BE A WRITER… (1)

To describe what it means to be a writer in one sentence, I’d say this:

You don’t break down, you turn it into content.

I can’t even count how many times I’ve poured out my entire heart into writing. Depressed, excited, confused, angry, in love… anything I feel, I write it. That’s one thing I love about writing.

The freedom, the kind that lets you say everything without actually saying anything directly. Sometimes, it feels like I hide behind words, but at the same time, I’ve shared almost everything I’ve ever felt… just in a way people don’t always recognize, I'll feel something deeply, and the next thing, I’m already writing it down.

And then people read it, and be like;

“Favour, this is so good.”

“You write so well.”

And in my head, I’m like, as how na?

Because many times, I’m not just “writing well.” I’m writing my feelings, how do you call a cry for help, coated in poetry, an excellent piece? Can you not see that I’m not even okay?

But then again… I’m grateful.

Grateful that I can express myself this way, and people won’t always take it too deep or make it about me. Because truth be told, not everything I write is about me… but a lot of it is.

I remember one experience that still feels unreal, years ago, I wrote something. Not just anything… a suicide note, yes, let’s not sugarcoat it, that wasn’t a “sad piece.” It was real.

And because I had this habit of sending my writings to friends, I sent it to a few people close to me.

They read it. And they praised it.

They were talking about how deep it was, how it almost felt like I was suicidal while writing it. Almost.

Meanwhile, I was actually going through it. I was suicidal.

I didn’t send that piece for applause, I wanted to be seen. I wanted someone to notice that I wasn’t okay, but instead… it was admired.

Looking back now, I won’t even lie, I somehow picked myself up from that place. But that moment taught me something I’ll never forget.

That’s the merit and the demerit of being a writer.

The merit?

You can express anything. Your pain, your thoughts, your struggles, your truth. You can even tell other people’s stories. And the craziest part? You get away with it. People call it creativity. People applaud it.

The demerit?

A cry for help can pass as art, pain can be mistaken for talent, and the writer… remains unseen. It’s honestly a blessing and a curse.

So, dearest reader, to be a writer is this: to be breaking, quietly, tears running down your face… and still finding a way to turn it into words.

To bleed on paper, and somehow find relief in it.

Because truly, there is something about writing that heals. I’ve started writing in tear and ended up smiling.

Just like I started this feeling heavy, and now I feel lighter.

That’s the relief of bleeding on paper...

@favvy_Okwans🖤.