I grew up in a place where everyone is expected to follow the norm, where being different is unacceptable or at least, not so important. All along, I have been trying to find my own space, trying to be felt or noticed by others, and trying to be labeled as someone who can compete. I was always the one who needed to prove myself in the eyes of those positioned, in the standards of those I thought, chosen. I strive hard to at least have a title; and so I had.
But then, I started appreciating the silence more than the loud praises and the applause. I started venturing into a different world, a world where one’s voice was hidden behind those words, where thoughts can be expressed loudly without even speaking. I started writing.
I’ve written poems and metaphors, stories to describe my feelings, short proses of wild imagining – phrases, sentences, paragraphs of my shortcomings and continuous becoming. I learned to value each type of expression to convey whatever was in my heart – my desires, passions, dreams, aspirations, rants, greetings, encouragements, ideals.
I learned to value choices and realized that we have choices for everything. Even if you don’t have any other option, it is still a choice whether you would choose to choose or not at all. I have learned a lot, and am still learning more. But one thing I’m proud of is that the space given to me has been occupied by a very special craft that I could call, mine.