One-shot Compilations

Just Because...

I know that when people looked at me, they never thought of me as a writer. I get them all right. I wear makeup, miniskirts, and dresses. My hair was dyed ash brown. My fingernails painted red. My lips either colored red, pink or nude, depending on my mood. While I occasionally wear my glasses, most of the time I wear my contact lenses or none at all. People think I'm a snob when I don't recognize them or greet them, but the truth is I didn't see them at all. Even though I am quiet for the most part, my voice is naturally loud. I speak English with an accent and even though I write, people don't see me as anyone who writes better in Filipino. People assume that I'm a party girl, someone who drinks and hangs out a lot, someone who enjoys going out than the comfort of her home. I have nothing against them. Since this is the picture I put into their minds; a woman who loves to drink; a woman that loves to hang out; a woman who knows nothing but to do girly stuff; a woman who speaks loudly and often swears; a woman who's got a really strong personality, but they don't know what I do when I'm alone and I'm consumed with depression and anxiety. When drinking and going out doesn't dull the pain. When hangover doesn't make me forget.

The question is, why am l writing? I write because it's the only way I get to express my emotions. I get overwhelmed with my emotions. I can sense them each time I breathe. As if I have a broken rib and each breath is painful and uncomfortable. It's like there's this rubber burning. Every time I breath it hurts my nose and it stings my eyes. I feel it's taking over my mind and my heart. It's like a cold wind blowing through my skin on a stormy night. It's cold, cold creeping through my bones. Making my soul go numb and frosty,

Why do I write? I write because I'm bad at confrontations. What I was supposed to say wasn't said. What I ought to have done was not done. Just because my emotions got the better of me. I'm not able to think right. Which is why when I need to tell somebody something. I need to prepare myself and take mental notes of things I have to say to stay on track, but after I lost my chance, I have this feeling of regret that makes me wish I had said those things I should've said. So I recreate the scenarios in my head. Reviving the scenarios where I had said what I was supposed to say or make them feel. Depicting the feeling of that moment. Hoping to diminish the feeling of remorse.

Why do I write? I write to murder those I hate. I curse them in my mind. I want to torture them because I know I wouldn't be capable of doing it in real life. I know I'm somebody you don't want to see when I get mad, but I'm not exactly a violent person. Just in my head.

Why do I write? I write because I can convey my feelings. Describe it as if I was describing a suspect to a detective to make a composite sketch. I write so I can say all the right words I sometimes know I'm not in a position to show or say. I write because perhaps... maybe people around me would see my feelings as well,
That I too am a human who is hurt, angry and emotional. That perhaps if I write all this, the scars on my heart will eventually fade. Like a corticosteroid cream that would eventually blur the scars like it wasn't there once.

So, if you ask me why I write? I will simply say that this is my hobby. It's a lot more than that, though. I write to lessen those voices in my head. Those tales waiting to be written: the imagination and fantasies: the pain and sorrow, but I hate explaining. So if you ask me why I'm writing, I'll just simply shrug my shoulders, look at you stupidly and say: "Just because..."