A Writer's Symptoms

You write in the margins and read between the lines. You’ve always been a scribbler of some kind. It’s never been obvious that the itch in your conscience was just a need for words so you could continue with the liberating act of weaving words in your mind .In journals .On postcards . The back of envelopes. On tissues. Your own palms. Desks. In the pin pages of your math register. You’ve done it all.

You love to travel; it gives you time to think. Solo travelling is even better, you’ve always loved solitude. No one to judge your first drafts. The raw spillage of your emotions, uncontaminated by edits. You don’t mind the swaying of a train or the drowsy aura of a bus, in fact it aids your thought process .There’s something about the sky changing shades while you’re suspended between two places that urges you to write.

You observe people without intention; strangers become your muse for a moment. You’ve always believed in the lost art of writing letters; you dream of having an otherworldly pen pal. You look for honesty in everyone, especially in the familiarity in your mirror. You like reading. People. Books. Eyes. Walls. T-shirts. Minds. There’s a list of books that you read time and again, with no rational explanation of why you even love it so much. Libraries have always been your safe haven. Your sanctuary.

You love nights. Just before you fall asleep, the quiet of the night invokes questions in your mind that you only long to answer aptly one day. It gives you ineffable pleasure to dive right into your thoughts and have an evening just to yourself. You lose track of time.

There is nothing more severe that you have gone through than a writer’s block. The desire to bleed it all out but not being able to. Another feeling comes close,not remembering the exact word for the exact feeling you’re feeling . It drives you nuts in seconds.

Your favourite sound is the smearing of graphite on paper. The typewriter is no less than a musical instrument. You linger in moments. Places leave a mark on you, a scent around you. Nostalgia gives you goosebumps and you love it. You forgive. But unfortunately, you forget nothing. Definitely not how sunlight hits certain faces in all the right ways. The shape of their brows. How their lips curl when they whistle. The gloss in their eyes. The sheen of their hair.

You love criticism. You know how to take all criticism constructively and appreciation lightly. You like opinions. You collect quotes. Thoughts. Moments .It’s not always easy but it’s the only way you know how to be. You’ve been this way as long as you can remember. Your search never ends. Did you even know you were on a quest?