Thank you for stopping by on this little escape place we built slowly over the last 2 years. For me, writing has always been my favorite thing. Before i was a poet, i used to write songs and before i was a songwriter, i would write diary entry (well maybe that ain't this special and i still write those) and before that i used to write some opinion on various issues. So it all started at some point back in 2020, which is not that much relevant to the current story but i must say, that its then when this writing journey started for me. Of course, i'm not resigning from writing but from actually sharing my work. I know nobody is forcing me to do that but at some point, it does started to feel like that.
Imagine being a writer and you just want to escape but in this current timeline, you really can't do that. You can't just disappear on those who actually looks forward for your next piece but that is here where i must draw the line. To me, sharing my work has started to feel like a bit "performative", i hate this word so much. These days you cannot even enjoy the things you like to do, without getting called "performative" or "aesthetic chaser", not that anyone had the fuckin audacity to ever say that to my face. But i'm honestly tired of doing that and right now i just want to build a huge archive of my work and burn it before i die. It turns out "writing cannot always be your escape".
I know what i just said sounds offensive, considering it is the most cathartic way to save your sanity when you are in too much pain and i feel that to some extent but it would be a fools scenario if you were to completely agree on that. I think we have seen what happened to the great poets we know, in the end they all just decided to cut the chord themselves and not wait for the right time of arrival. With writing, there are so many consequences that i feel like everyone chose to just ignore. When you are a writer, you basically just live in your own world, you hate the fuckin sight of any human who chose to interrupt you. We live in our own fantasies and whole day there is nothing that comes in mind except of countless ideas that you wish you could bring them all to life. You get excited over little things and reality starts to get blurred and then there is no coming back. You try to think of ways you could put that exact moment into words, even if it was just a normal conversation with a stranger and this doesn't just stop there, the more you write, the more your mind digs into memories because you love the idea of writing too much and capturing that exact moment into metaphors which appear fancy while also being torturous at the same time. I just hope i'm not the only one who does this.
That is why, sharing that work starts to feel offensive as if you are letting a total stranger into your own world. I will never stop writing because either way it will make me insane. I'm just closing this chapter (at least under this name and who knows we might meet again under a pen name which is a total mystery to you all. I don't know what i am saying at this point.)
Thank You
Maanvinder
