(1)
Hi. I'm not sure if anyone will still see this, since it's been a long time — but either way, it's fine.
I thought I had long forgotten about this. But in moments when my mind goes blank and there's nothing left to think about, I find myself remembering my stories — and the characters I never got to share. I realize now... I miss it. I miss writing.
Looking back and reading my old drafts, I've started to reflect on a few things. Back then, I was too judgmental and harsh on my own work — but now that I read them again, they weren’t actually so bad. Or sometimes I was so excited and was also a bit too proud of my writing, yet it turns out it was full of errors. I got so caught up in trying to please others that I became a perfectionist, and in the process, I forgot to enjoy what I was creating. And lastly... and honestly I was lazy. Hahaha.
All of these things led to me never finishing a single book. Everything I wrote remained just an idea. But maybe... it was also because I was too young. I didn’t really have anything of my own to say. I was only echoing what I had picked up from other works. My stories didn’t come from my own perspective, my own experience, or from things I truly wanted others to see.
Of course, that’s not a valid reason for someone not to be a writer — but for me, back then, it became a barrier. Still, I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret leaving those ideas unfinished. I just wasn’t ready yet. Maybe I was just greedy — or too inspired — wanting to create something as beautiful as what I was reading at the time.