Confessions of an Indie Blogger

I am but a small boy, struggling to find his place on earth. And in order to do that, I feel like I ought to be me. I ought to be the person who I was meant to be. But in this crazy world of expectations and responsibilities, being myself had to take a backseat.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I will not forget who I am as set out to do what I’m supposed to do. That is why I’ve been looking for a creative outlet – a hole for which my soul can peek through. So that I get a chance to express myself. Be me for a fraction of the time that I am not. Give myself a chance to get out and take a whiff of the cool outside world air. I am not looking for recognition. Well, at least I think I don’t. I just need the chance to be me without anybody judging.

About two years ago, I started out writing again. A hobby that had long went to hibernate ever since I learned of my incompetence in the said art. I started out with a stupid blog about hoping for someone to come along. It was pretty mediocre and short, but it told what I felt. People didn’t believe that I wrote it at first because they didn’t think that it was something that I could do. So once again, I gave it a rest. I thought that maybe writing just wasn’t for me.

But then sometime last year, after densely thinking that I might have a good story in mind, I started to write again. After all, I always dreamed of becoming a bestselling author. So I gave writing a story a try. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out well. At first I thought, maybe I just needed a better story to tell. But after three failed attempts, I knew it just wasn’t meant to be.

It wasn’t until June of this year when I decided to make a fool of myself, yet again, with writing. After I quit my first job, I didn’t feel so good. I felt ambivalent and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. So I decided to write to help me dissect and analyze why I felt what I felt. Then right after I finished what I wrote, and just before I could try to understand my emotions, the funny feeling of ambivalence was gone. Just like that. And that’s when I realized what writing does to me. It helps me liberate my soul.

And that’s why I write. I’m not very good at it, I know. But I write not for other people’s benefit, but mine. It gives me something to believe in and something to hold on to. I don’t write to be recognized by other people, but for me to recognize myself. So excuse me if my words are too simple or my writing too average. I’m not looking to win a Pulitzer; I’m just looking for me. I needed a creative outlet, and I think I found one in writing.

Aside from my art, this makes me whole. This makes me happy. It allows me to be me. So before you make fun of me or criticize me and my work, let me say this: Please, step aside and give me a chance to be happy.