Raw Fragments We Hold Onto

I've always resisted writing about personal experiences because I believe that if you do, you must be authentic and true to yourself before being true to your readers. And that's where the challenge lies-no one holds complete knowledge of anything, not even their own memories. Writing about personal experiences often involves other people, and your understanding of their intentions or motives can never be entirely accurate.

You might misinterpret their actions, casting yourself as the victim without realizing it. Or worse, you might paint them as villains when, in fact, their motives played a crucial role in shaping who you are today. In those cases, your assumptions were flawed-built on fragments of information you believed to be right but taken out of their true context.

Because of this, I've always preferred to write stories that reflect my soul rather than attempt to label them as "true" stories. But this time is different. I've decided to share a personal experience, one that I believe, to a large extent, is truly authentic.

Writing about love is perhaps the hardest thing to do. Feelings are elusive, difficult to pin down, and situations often resist translation onto paper. But I'll do my best to navigate my feelings and help myself write about what I have always resisted.