Why I Hate Myself When I Write

I love writing.

When I write, I remind myself that I'm living. That my life isn't boring. That I make sense. But the problem is, once I sit down and start scribbling my thoughts, I become so focused and lost at the same time. I become so overwhelmed by my own emotions. I become so passionate. I start to acknowledge no boundary. My hand seems to have its own raging, unmerciful mind. I feel like I'm in a big room, with words scattered and suspended everywhere. All I need to do is grab them, one by one, until I satisfy myself.

When I write, I become hungry. I long for more thoughts and more emotions and more words. My heart beats faster as I etch each letter. A friend once told me, "Careful. You might hurt someone. Or worse, you might hurt yourself." It hit me. But I would really love to see it happens. I want my words to sting somebody’s heart, and my thoughts to inspire another mind. Imagine, how subtle yet powerful would that be.

Every time I write, I create my own jungle and declare my own war. And eventually become lost in it. I struggle with every trap and every enemy I encounter along the way. Sometimes, I hide myself behind the words that I used and take a rest. Sometimes, I feel betrayed by my own words. But other times, I also betray them and take the side of the enemy. My whole stay in that jungle makes me stronger, braver, more sensitive. My heart gets tired, I admit. But it becomes more and more passionate, more alive. And as such transition happens, I don't know myself anymore. It's as if another person takes over and controls my thoughts. Then, I get drunk by my own ideas.

For most people, the hardest part in writing is how they are going to begin it. For me, it is how I'm going to end it. Every period urges me to start another sentence. It's like addiction. One or two tastes are not enough. I crave for more.

Now, I have to reveal one more thing... I'm lost again. Should I continue? Or should I end it here?

Let me think...