Who says I’m getting tired of writing?

If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.

-Lord Byron

My ex-boyfriend once said, “Nagba-blog ka nanaman? Di ka ba nagsasawa?
How about no?
Looky here: I cannot draw, paint, sculpt, dance, make music. Writing is the only creative outlet available to me. Writing is my emotional release, my brief reprieve from the insanity of this world.

When I’m writing, my mind is clear. I can focus as I reread every word, editing carefully, making sure that every paragraph is well-written, that everything is structured and coherent, that no word is misspelled.
When I’m writing, I know exactly what to say, and how to say it.
When I’m writing, every pent-up emotion—misery, anger, happiness—is laid out in the open, exposed, so I can examine it and find out exactly what the fuck is wrong with me.
As of this moment, I have 26 drafts, and I am not going to stop until I finish them all.
The day I stop writing will be the day I stop [over]thinking, analyzing, doing, and feeling. And you can quote me on that.

Ela is a twentysomething who is constantly getting stuck in self-destructive behavior and bouts of low self-esteem. She struggles with depression and writes to relieve herself of her feelings. Sometimes she even blogs about other things like makeup and positivity. One of her pieces was published in the Inquirer Young Blood in October 2017. She likes cats, dogs, and sometimes even people.

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