I told myself I should write more. That I should be expressing myself in the written word – my thoughts, my ideas, my opinions more. “I’ll write whatever comes to my mind first thing I wake up,” I said. But it was all just an idea.
I wake up to the sound of my sister opening cabinets as she prepares for school, or my mom chatting over the telephone, or the sound of 5 snoozes from my alarm. I look at the time, and my email, and my notifications. But it never occurred to me to do what I always intended to.
One of my saddest frustration is the thought that I know it’s something I can do, but the thing is, just knowing isn’t enough to actually do anything. Some of you might think that I’m overreacting to a simple idea I could always start anytime, but to me it’s more than that.
I can’t hold a pen and write whatever the hell is going through my mind as the first thing I actually want to do. And that thought saddens me.
You see, whenever I sleep, I dream a lot- of traveling, of things that could never happen, and of even plots that are good enough for a fiction story. I also dream a lot – of success, of career, of a loving family I can hold dear. But I can’t write as early as I wake up, and it just shows what I really want and what my priorities are.
This morning when I woke up, the first thing that came to my head was to drink my hot chocolate and take the photo above. I’m a hypocrite. My journal sits beside my bed, but to take the photo above I have to set up a table and all the assets I plan to use for my Instagram account but I found the motivation to do so. And I feel it’s sometimes a shame to call myself a writer when I can’t even do such simple thing.
I wish I have the same motivation to writing like an actual writer. I wish I can inspire and influence as it was a dream since elementary. I wish I can write good things – things that people would read – many times a day. I wish it was all that easy.