What exactly are you fighting for?

What exactly are you fighting for?

A question I often ask myself when I’d gone down the drain and when doubt would cloud my judgement on what is the reality and what is so far from it. A question that I ask myself now on the reason why I had done this “challenge” in the first place. So far off from reaching the goal but I was getting somewhere.

I lost the direction and the simple purpose of why I am doing this again. Yes, it’s about building consistency but in the end it has always been about the battle that I’ve had with who I am as a “writer”.

I was born idealist and denied myself for a while so I’d be able to fit in. But when I came back to myself, I felt like a child again wondering how come I was so lost—so muddled with identity crisis.

All I needed to find was my innate self. But it was the idea that it’s not normal to be deep and to wonder curiously about why a certain event would happen to me… or someone else. What it would like to be in their shoes.

It’s difficult when your mind is a playground… when you’d dream so far off from the reality that you had forgotten where you were in the first place. When you’d end up ruminating about situations that you can’t control.

But the reason why all of this happens was because I couldn’t see where I was going. Just like how I felt like where I’d end up being when I wasn’t being myself and felt constrained by the thought that I needed to be somebody else to just… fit in.

When actually, being yourself and finding contentment in the way that you are, whom you’ve become and how God created you to be.

So the goal is nothing more than a journey to crawl, to walk and to sometimes run towards Him. To find yourself while you’re finding Him.
You’re not really fighting for who you are. You’re fighting for the One who created you by being the person that you were born to be.

Perhaps you don’t understand my thought process. But to summarise, I would just like to end this with a closure.

I would just like to close this one month challenge not with a defeat, but a humble closure and conclusion that sometimes writing doesn’t have to be constructive and real.

It doesn’t have to be understood.

It has always been a journey.

And I think I am more aware now what kind of writer I intend to be.

Creativity is inconsistent and unpredictable. I guess that’s who I would like to be.

I “failed” on the consistent game but I’ve found myself in the process. I believe that’s more meaningful than having to write without much soul. So I’m guessing it took me 24 days (non-consecutive) to “find myself”. 

 

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