Like a persistent child, she kept nagging every story she writes to give her answers; asking similar questions one way or another; making her characters face similar issues, troubles, and insecurities in so many different circumstances but similar ways.
Every time the happy ending she has in mind would seep through her fingers and fall to the ground. And she'd catch herself involuntarily weaving the plot with her tears and scars; her pieces that have been ripped apart, which she could never abandon.
But one day, she finally got all her answers.
Do you know how it felt?
Nothing! It felt like...nothing! It felt empty and useless and nothing changed.
Even though the answers made sense; even though they're supposed to matter and make a difference.
Knowledge is power, right? Then why? Why wasn't she happy?!
She realized she was actually looking for something else along the way. Something that practically mattered more than just "answers".
She was looking for a way to feel okay. She wanted to feel okay.
Even after learning the answers, she still felt sick with pain, anxiety, and despair.
Maybe it takes more than knowledge to be powerful.
Right! Of course!
It takes faith too.
It takes faith just as well.
Just as well.