I Want To Be a Writer

Luckily, it’s not very hard — I’m doing it right now! Each second passes with a rhythm of fingertips tapping these keys. Fingers wiggling as they transcribe one thought to the next, processing each one into a series of characters. In this moment, I am creating something new. Constructing a universe from the reaction of my mind on blank paper.

Who knows where these words will lead me? For one, I rarely do. I rarely know what the next line will be before completing the sentence I’m already on. Sure, sometimes I come up with lines out of sequence. Yet even then, it becomes an experiment in finding the link between two impactful components. How can I arrange these words such that it evokes emotion in my heart? What would reach me?

And then I answer. I speak from the perspective not of one wishing to be saved, but of the one who is saving. I write the advice that I’ve always been looking for. Because, it makes sense. I remember the most important thing: that all my hesitation to act has been caused from an illusion in how I view my own mind. It is because at times, I envision myself to be someone who wants to be a writer. Instead of simply being a writer. I unwittingly distance my cognitive perception of my own self through replacing I am a with I want to be a.

I dream of what it means to be a successful writer:

  • Publish books
  • Have consistent blog posts
  • Write every day
  • People who want signed books

Then I think of myself:

  • No books
  • Inconsistent writing posts
  • In the last 6 months, I’ve written long-form like this less than 15 times.
  • No books to sign

And at this point, I start producing the thought: I am not a writer. Once on the scene, this thought sparks a mental struggle which needs only but one distraction to be placated. In fact, I was just on Facebook for ~15 minutes since writing the last line. It’s uncomfortable for a mind to feel itself divided. So much so the next option is to just think of something else.

Often that something else is not writing! It’s browsing the internet, watching shows and movies, or playing video games. Then 6 months go by and bam! I’m no longer a writer. Through wanting to become a writer, I further push myself away from it. The solution instead, is to simply write. There is no want, there is no desire other than the impulse to write. To create a string of words able to convey something worth sharing. A melody of symbols. A moment both to reflect and to stumble across something new.

Intergalactic Synapses

A universe of existence
From atomic scenes to galaxies
Mysteries of interstellar seas
Of motion and action
Emotion, reactions
Cognizant perceptions
Convert energy into a life
Of big numbers and little fractions
Cosmic interactions
Every passing moment a chance to connect
Able to use the time we have left
To live a life worth living
With a heart, like a star, beating in our chests


Summer Goals

Sweat and code
Health, you know
Taking this time to focus on where I’m going
One step at a time while continuously knowing that as long as I move forward
Moving toward the person that I dream to be
It doesn’t matter if it’s difficult or if it comes easily
This is the story of the self-written prophecy
Inscribed with a pen shared by all who inspire me

No longer waiting for dreams to come to me
It’s a craft, you see, to create and let your own art breathe free
Freely expressing whats pressing on your mind and your heart
When one plus one makes two, but you still don’t know what to do or where to start
Living on a shared planet but often feeling galaxies apart


The Best Way to Act

Enter the park
And feel the
breathing of trees
As if nature
has a heart
Beating and free
This is what I feel
when breeze is revealed
Time slows down
I can see what is real
and of that which repeats
In the past, present, and future
An inner Gratitude happily weeps

Jubilant dogs and families
Passed by runners
And bicycling partners 
Enjoying an ever fleeting summer
All moving past
baseball game
in its last inning
Of the same game
But different players
How is life not a game
When it can be split into frames
Of win and of loss
With rules just so carefully
Placed out of our grasp
Thrown on an initial path
With too little time to do all the math
To look up and see
we’re all just people
Clueless on the same track
Often too scared to share the fact
that we don’t really know
the best way to act.

Summer of Dreams

This is the Summer
When dreams come to life
No longer in slumber
They won’t stay in my night
For I have a hunger
To inspire my self
Along with others
To change this world and bring the focus back to love
With my hands and my heart
This blessing of time is more than enough.