Writing

I started to write.

At first, it was awkward, like trying to cook without a recipe,

adding fancy ingredients, thinking it would make it look decent,

only to make it a chaotic mix of all colors.

But after the third or fourth try, it starts to ooze out.

Like bullets of sweat drops dripping in a sauna,

words are spilling out — the truer the words, the more addictive they become.

And when I looked up because I needed to drink and eat,

Hours had gone by, and I wanted to let out more.

It’s as though I’ve finally learned the meaning of words.

The construct of the world pieced together in mind,

more concrete than the grain of sand in my hand.

As I let go of fear — I started to see.

5.12.2025