Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Mighty, Mighty Pen.

I think my passion for writing was born out of a need to document and contain my imagination. I always have this feeling that if I don't write down and document the myriad of thoughts, feelings, fantasy and opinion, my head would literally explode from both immense euphoria and an overflow of information in my brain's nervous system.

As a kid (as far as i could remember), I was one of the few ones who enjoy joining the dotted lines to make an alphabet in literally tens of scrapbooks. I find an immeasurable amount of happiness and satisfaction from being able to draw a perfect A to Z. I think this fascination with perfection is also the reason why my mum says, "You write like a girl."

And from alphabets, it became and grew to words, and then phrases and then sentences and before I knew it, I was writing paragraphs after paragraphs of stories etched from inside my head to paper.

Writing is my escape. Writing was my way to calm myself down from feeling angry or disappointed, a way for me to pass time during boring lessons and lectures, a way to make other people happy and so much more. It has come to a frenetic point that if I see a piece of paper and a pen; a prose, a haiku, a paragraph of something, anything would be written on it.

Some people doodle on paper, some make paper planes, some set it on fire but me? I write.

Ine of the most significant writing episodes etched in my memory was when I was ten years old. I remembered being taunted and bullied by this boy who was two grades above me. he would sneer and call me names during recess and verbally abuse me in front of everyone.

This went on for three months and I was in tears every single day and dreaded to go to the canteen during recess. By this time I was being shoved repeatedly in front of everybody all the time and called upon with multiple gay slurs (some of which I didn't even understand).

So I wrote a letter.

In my letter, with all the vocabulary that a ten year old had and could muster, I wrote about how scared and hurt I felt with the emotional and physical torment (yes I used the word torment, and dramatically too) that I go through on a daily basis and how I wish it would stop.

This letter was written and sent to my Principal. (Eat my shit bitches!)

Naturally what entailed was a slew of events that is of epic proportions. A distraught kid, an equally distraught (and dramatic) mother and a bully; like anything less would happen.

"My son could be depressed in silence and committed suicide! Do you want my son to jump down from the school building straight into the middle of the school assemble for you guys to do anything about it?!" I remembered my mum screaming in the principal's office.

At that point of time my parents were not divorced yet and my father was beside her just quietly (and helplessly) telling her to stop her antics. It was as useless as standing in front of the hurricane and telling it to head in the opposite direction. Not going to happen.

But sketchy dramatic moments aside, the bully was suspended from school for two weeks and was being given the proper disciplinary actions. He was in tears (serve you right motherfucker) when asked to apology to me in front of his parents and mine.

But what I finally understood from that one defining moment is that, true to the overused adage; the pen is really much mightier than the sword. My writing had single handedly helped me get through my biggest fear and that pretty much made me understood the power of words and gave me the strength to face my fears, one word at a time.

So what have you written today?


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