17 parts Ongoing i started writing when the pandemic hit. i started to have writer friends on facebook while using an rp account. i joined a writing guild, collaboration with writer friends, posted my works in fb. at first, i thought my works were so so heavenly and beautifully crafted.
as i read it now, i came to the realization that i was writing just because i want to have something. i want to be good at something, to master something. i didn't write all of it because i was feeling it, so it's full of shit and dishonesty (sum of it ig).
i unpublished some of the works that feel nonsense to me. after months of not writing because i thought i don't deserve it and words just didn't flow. i was frustrated it was all gone. and i'm never good at anything anymore.
i was so busy thinking that i should write to be good and recognized that my true potential remained hidden. paseacut pala, e.
now, now. i am releasing them and starting again because i know, deep inside, there's a writer in me. there's a poet in me.
i have potential.
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