Confession or Story-telling... it's me!

It's a gust of fresh air from outside or some inner outburst...can't say! All I know is am feeling happy and very new. I will not be modest if I say that I am not a great writer or any expert who can beautify anything and everything even if it lacks any substance. I am a conscious speaker who chose to express herself through writing. It's neither a passion nor an aggression towards any person or situation.

It all begin from a need to know myself, understand things better, clear the mental clog and my obsession with beautiful diaries, and pens. When you dread to see yourself as you are, when you fear that society will not accept the real you and when you start harboring a self-disrespect for yourself then you start seeing the world from a secret window, hiding in a corner of your life. Nurturing fantasies, idolizing others, staying mum when you when you wanted to shout,... All these were my all-time companions.

Diary writing came to me as a very natural thing. Effortless and relieving, it freed me from the burden I used to collect all day long by painting my life as a rough note waiting to be drafted afresh with all possible checks on! Gradually it became my Gray Book, as it used to record all my personality traits which were labeled Gray by my personal customized ideologies. In my perfect world of black and whites there was never any space for the out caste gray breed. They should change themselves from head to toe and come in the league of those who look ideal and happy.

It was a Hell! Self-condemnation of such sort is believed to be found in the Hell described in our philosophies. "Am I this bad?", I used to pinch such scorns in my heart. Not realizing the power of Visualization, I kept on painting the dismal shades of self-pity and rejection with growing intensity. When life was diminishing from the horizons, I drew some uncanny depth within myself. As it is commonly said,'Every cloud has a silver lining'... I dint realize when I actually started enjoying my own company. It has not much to do with liking the self but I was becoming accustomed to myself. Most of us dread silence and being alone, not because of the social element attached to the human animal, but we simply and clearly dread to face our own self, to hear our own voice, to meet our own real self. It is such a gloomy and clustered corner of our house that we never visit.

...to be cont.

Comfort in your own skin

Hi All,

I dint anticipate this long pause while drafting the first letter of my blog which I've created just two minutes back. I was exuberant to get a new platform...something out of the pages of my faithful old diary...something which i can share without any inhibitions.

My sole purpose to be here is to give my unfolding persona enough space and a voice.

I am unfortunate that I'm not bugged by any issue like a nagging boss, a dismaying love life, a disturbed family,etc...so I have a very strange thing here to discuss...that's Me! Well... I am not a celeb still I feel that whatever I have to say is someway or the other related to all of us.

Considering my newness to this colossal world of expression I hope I will get first-time-luck and will continue writing here.

Cheers!!

Miss Columnist