drawn out

a startling question that mrs chng asked me when i went back for contemp dance;
'are you still writing, felicia?'

such a simple question, yet it started so much more profound thoughts in my head.
writing.
the good ol' joy in writing.
it brought so much glee back in sch when we had to write essays for eng and lit pieces.
the ability to express one's emotions on a piece of blank paper.. that piece of blank paper awaiting the pen ink to bring life onto the page.
it was almost an obsession, really.
how tempting it was to withdraw into my own world made out of blank canvas where i could just scribble anything text i choose.
why, it's a freedom of speech.
and you certainly are beginning to lose that kind of innocent freedom these days.


so on paper is where i let loose my thinkings, my feels, my wiles- where i could be myself without anyone calling me foolish.
i did rather well in sch for those subjects because i'd learn to tap into the mystical world of making things come alive by writing on paper. no, not drawing them out. but rather, by letting the reader experience her own scene while the writer helps stimulate the brain to imagine, to inspire, to initiate. every person's perception of a story may not be the same, even though they all read the same words. the power of their mind lets them create a visual illusion of how they wish to see things.
like a secret playground.
like a secret playground where you can just be yourself.



oh how i miss writing.
i guess the blog is the next best substitute for me to pen down my musings of dinosaurs and global warming and peach trees.
but alas, i lost practice and now my writing hinges have all gone rusty. will i ever be able to go back to my passion, or will things be different now that i haven't properly written for so long?
a year to be exact. a long and enduring year.
oh how things have changed within a span of three hundred and sixty five days short days.

three hundred and sixty five short days make one long year.
i wonder if four hundred and ninety wrongs make one right.




"are you still writing, felicia?"
"yes. yes, i am."






they're still waiting for you, felicia.