During exams of my seventh grade, I was asked to write an essay over the topic of library. In those days I didn’t own much books but I often dreamt of having a large and airy library at home.
I wrote an imaginary essay in which I gave desription of my ideal picture of library with two large windows which I imagined opened in garden of my home. I was supposed to write that essay in Urdu and thirteen out of fifteen marks were considered highest in class.
In her remarks, my teacher wrote excellent work on my paper.
I kept that paper for a long time but later lost it during shifting process of my home.
Two weeks ago, I was reading George Orwell’s essay in which he mentioned that he had a lonely child’s habit of making up stories and holding up conversation with imaginary friends. Reading this reminds me of that library essay and I thought I could relate to him for there is this magic in imagination that in most desperate moments of my life, I have always found refuge in secret haven of my imaginary world.
I write because it gives me an excuse for reading.
I scribble because it provides me glimpse of my own thought process.
I write because it keeps me alive.
It sounds like a cliche but it’s been some time that wtiting has become more of a life line for me. I have found the sensation of giving birth to words painful but the next moment when I saw words on previously blank screen of my laptop, I feel proud of myself.
My mother often scolds me that I also need to learn to explain myself through oral communication which I think I’m quite capable of doing for it seems funny but whenever my mother is furious, I get afraid of her temper and lost control over my speech.
I have no idea of the count of words I have typed so far. I have been interrupted twice and have lost control of my stream of thoughts whose speed I was unable to control. My fingers didn’t keep pace with it.
This post of mine wasn’t suppose to go like this. There were many things which I wanted to write but right now when I’m not able to recall any single of them, I’d like to mention that I write because through writing, I’ve explored many new dimensions of life.
I simply write because writing has provided me with this opportunity to embrace life…