Spilled Ink (2)

Spilled Ink (2)

I hope you can relate to these words

This is the second part of my post on this blog, in which I found myself. I was surprised that anyone actually cared about it and took the time to read it. I didn’t care that the number of readers was small; in fact, I didn’t expect anyone to be interested in the first place, and I was about to stop writing. Perhaps I was afraid of defeat before even starting the battle, but my passion for writing has returned, thanks to my readers. Now, I will continue what I started in the first part

But before that, I must inform you of something I inadvertently overlooked: I will write whatever comes to mind in the coming periods—that is, after finishing this exact part—I will write whatever flows from my pen. The topics won’t be connected to each other in terms of words, but they’re all the same story in terms of the buried and lost emotions You will find that they are no different and are all connected to one another. And now I will leave you with the beginning of Part Two

........(previous)

(Is it possible that your heart will start beating again someday? Is it just a matter of time, or is it worse than that?)

(Continued)

I know there’s something stopping you from expressing what you feel. A voice, born of so much betrayal, is trying to protect you. But don’t you feel that your heart, from so much silence, is about to burst? Don’t forget that the eyes have a tongue we cannot silence, and your soul, from so much silence, has come to lean only toward withdrawal. I know very well that you’ve to isolation, but I had my doubts about this, so I asked your heart. And despite its denial at first, it could no longer bear it, so it revealed everything to me—every single letter of the word. Tell me what you feel without your mind interfering. Tell me what lies deep within you, without lying

And I learned how much you wished for your soul to return to your body, and how much you long to regain control over this body and dispel the illusion you created. But you fear regret and returning to square one again, so you’ll regret it and the story will start over from the beginning. It’s true that I sincerely hope you return to who you were in the past, but I fear you might become worse than you are now. After hearing what happened to you, I began to doubt the possibility of bringing your soul back.

And so I finished my first book. This marks the first time my pen has taken flight—the first time I’ve found myself in a place where I could express myself with complete freedom, without stumbling or feeling flustered. It left an impression of calm and serenity, free from any unpleasant feelings. Believe me, dear reader, it’s not easy to find the right way to express what’s inside you, to say what you’ve kept hidden and what you feel. Emotions are a scary thing—something not easily overcome. That’s what I thought, but when I picked up the pen, I realized I didn’t have to confront these emotions; I just had to deal with them and feel every single one—whether it’s sadness, joy, repression, disappointment, or anything else—I want to live this life with all its ups and downs. I want to live no matter how difficult life gets, and if I want to keep going, I have to understand my feelings and help myself do so.

Next time, I’ll write more lines that express what I’ve been trying to keep hidden my whole life