Was it after I came back to Okinawa? Was it after I turned down numerous invitation to parties and meet ups? Was it when I've decided that I will press the restart button? I can't remember the exact date I stopped writing or rather...forgot how to write.
I could remember so vividly the days I wrote feverishly on my train ride home, my body swaying but my pen and paper steadily and desperately trying to keep up with my thoughts. I could recall exactly the moments when words would haunt me during my walks after work and I, running like a mad man up the steps to my home, possessed by the hunger to give life to those words.
When did I stop? When did I stopped trying? When did I forget? I couldn't recall.
Writing is what I've worked so hard to be known for. Don't get me wrong. I am not a professional writer nor did I get a formal education on it. Days when my eyes would strain from reading, sleepless night because I couldn't put down a book, and words of the authors I so dearly admired were the things that shaped me as a writer (in my dreams!).
Now, you might be wondering why I am blabbing about writing. Well, you see, my mom, whom I spoke a couple of days ago asked me why I stopped writing. My sister did ask me the same thing a month ago too.
Those questions struck me hard.
Like really rock solid, avalanche and tsunami mashing up together, rushing towards me kind of hard.
It's the same as if they're looking for me. Kind of like - Daphne, where are you?
And oh my god! Did that wake me up.
"I'm here! I'm here!" I wanted to yell.
"I just kind of forgot where I was....I guess?"
I am not yet in my 60's and yet, I am starting to forget. The one thing I have passionately fantasized about, daydreamed all my life, and built my dreams on is slipping from my heart. AND that's one of the worst possible things that could ever happen to me.
That's kind of sad, don't you think?
It stirred my insides in a different kind of way - something like a seasick and post roller coaster kind of sick.
That's why I am here, jamming on my keyboards desperately, the kind of desperate that maybe, my whole system would wake up and start writing again not like I used to, but more than I used to.
Sincerely and would write again (I hope),
Daphne
**If you've read until the end, I've sent you a million of virtual corgis to keep you warm throughout your million lifetimes. You rock!
