Wholeheartedly

poetry

So I know this blog is public. Pretty much any passerby can read it, whomever happens to stumble upon the link. So yeah, I get that. It's open to public. But I don't know why, I've always had trouble with people reading what I write. My poetry, my stories. It's not about belittling myself. I think everyone has their way of writing. 'Good' and 'great' are subjective. Just how beauty is. To each his own.

This quote never really leaves my line of thought. I repeat it in my head; to accept an opinion, to excuse one of their behaviors, anything of the like, really. To each his own. You can have an opinion. You should have an opinion. I, personally, enjoy conversing with an opinionated person. You always get something in return. They always keep you on your toes. No one already knows too much. No one can say they know everything.

As is my problem every time I write, I always go south from what I originally planned to write about. Well, steering back on course. Lately, I've been trying to share my writing with people. It started back in high school really, when my teacher Ms. Vas started parading off my essays to my colleagues. I was caught off-guard. I didn't know how to react. But after that, more people came to me, wanting to read my essays. So slowly, I started to warm up to the idea. It was sort of hard at first, agreeing to let people read my stuff. Again, it's not about being selfish. I don't know how to explain it really.

Writing has always been personal to me. It's like opening up to someone, without actually talking. I've always thought that I write better than I talk. If Sharifah Amani once made a controversial statement saying, "I sound stupid when I speak Malay." Then, my statement would be, "I sound stupid when I speak, period." I stutter when I speak, it's like my mouth was never trained for speaking purposes. I don't converse easily with people I just met. I find it difficult. I never know what to say. I stay so quiet, often to the point that people will say I'm arrogant. Quite the contrary, my mind is making one hell of a conversation all by itself.

In medical jargon for all you medical students out there, there's a problem in my arcuate fasciculus. It has trouble sending nerve impulses from the Wernicke's to the Broca's area, thus also the muscles of articulation. Was that enough jargon for you? Yeah, I bet, for me too.

For now though, I'm definitely still trying to warm up to it. I tried with just my housemates, I let them read what I wrote- which to be honest, are mostly written about them- just to see how'd they react. And now, I've submitted one of my poetry to a fanzine that the Malaysian students here created to promote reading and writing and stuff.

So I hope you understand if I don't feel like sharing (although I really am trying). It's not easy opening up to people like that. My poetry and writing are most probably my most personal things. They may not be much, but it definitely feels like giving you a portion of my organ. So here, I'm practically handing out a speck of tissue from my heart, to you.