Writing— An escape from reality!!!

Writing! 

It's a good stroke of luck that I found writing as my refuge, as an escape from reality. I can dive deep into my memory lane and pull the heartening or heart wrenching memories back to the paper, converting them into words. I can see the wonder— the pen bleeding in blue sometimes black. 

Writing is not just a hobby or pastime. It's  recreating; it's giving birth to endless immortals. It's a flimsy thread between my bleak world and the seemless world outside. People read my words more accurately than they read my mind or face. 

How dashingly beautiful it's to find my feelings and emotions dancing in front of me on the paper in various colours and shapes. They let me wonder how deep and how dense my emotions are. 

Each and every time when I seek refuge in writing, it shows me who I am— how I feel when I'm praised, how I feel when I'm cursed, how I feel when I'm loved, how I feel when I'm ignored. It's  a mirror which shows the real me and let me groom my self. 

My words shed tears when I'm sad;  dance with merriment when I'm happy; they speak with me when in need of company. 

I hate writing with pencil as it can be erased. I don't fancy erasing my words.  Even if the word is not appropriate, even if there is a mistake, even the word can't convey what exactly I feel, that's mine. It has come out of me. In  that sense it's my heir. It has been conceived not in my womb but in my thoughts and converted from abstract memories to concrete words.