Do you ever just invalidate your feelings? Perchance.
Personally, I do. As a child, my feelings were often invalidated, which tainted my perception of life. But that was how my writing journey began.
Others invadilating my feelings made me overthink. It felt like words stuck in my brain would spread out like flames. Thinking is a journey to write about, and writing became a storage room for the exceeding thoughts my mind could not contain.
Perhaps writing, in whatever form it takes, can be your way of managing the world’s chaos too.
Some smoke, some drink, and I turn to avoidance, depersonalization and daydreaming. Avoiding reality was a coping mechanism that came from my uncanny ability to not pay attention.
Though being in that absent-minded space protected me from the outer world, it did not save me from having thoughts. My feelings were like a spill that you urgently need to clean, but there are no napkins.
Luckily for me, I went to a school where teachers would hand me notebooks and force me to write poems, to follow the rhythm and rules: Write the date, draw a red page border, add the page number and don’t forget the title and your name. When there was a chance to say perchance, it had to make sense.
I hated these rules because I could not say what I wanted how I wanted; I had to write words that were not mine.
Until another teacher asked me to write a short story, and my opinionated mind found herself a feast of no rules.
I drew the red border and the page number and carefully signed my name and title. I thought, "Oh, there’s a napkin!” Well, no. It’s a paper sheet, but close enough, my dear eight-year-old self. Perchance this paper will do it, clean the spill.
I wrote and wrote. My thoughts left my brain calmly and slowly into the pages.
And yes, I did write “perchance.” Perchance the English grammar might disagree with me, but I find it graceful to defy boring rules in harmless ways to add a bit of whimsy in life; I had the final word anyways. It might not be traditional, but writing this way matters to me. It’s the epitome of freedom of expression and mental well-being. Perchance.
The flames were still there, but at least now I could say perchance. Everything that was once tormenting my brain went to a piece of paper — or a Google document.
These are the wonders of writing indeed. Did you notice that I didn’t write down the date?
Well, that is the point. Follow as many rules as you want — or don’t. Disobey each one of them, but just write. What matters is to say what you have to say, to write what you have to write.
And in this long journey, make sure to rest. Dream about all the stories, the thoughts and the voices. You can always write tomorrow — as long as you write whatever it takes to set aside those burning feelings.
Tomorrow will be another story.
Regina Castillo is a News Reporter at The Beacon. She can be reached at medinaca27@up.edu.
Have something to say about this? We’re dedicated to publishing a wide variety of viewpoints, and we’d like to hear from you. Voice your opinion in The Beacon.
