The Intimacy of Writing

Writing is personal. You are, after all, giving access to your mind and how you think. And then there you are, laid bare on the pages for the reader to dissect you. Judge you.

I have always written for myself. And I cringe reading anything I write. I have deleted so many pages that I had maybe written in this emotion-fueled frenzy, and reading them later made me want to find the biggest hole to die in.

But then I come across really nice gems too, and I can’t believe that I have written that.

But good or bad, writing takes guts.

Letting someone see your mind naked is the rawest form of intimacy imaginable. And that’s what writing is.

And maybe that’s exactly why writing is power too.

Not everyone is willing to put themselves out there, because sharing the deepest parts of your mind comes at a cost — the cost of it not being treated as sacredly as you treat it.

But once you get over it, once you get over being judged or mocked, you find your voice.

Me? I am still finding it. But I like where I am going.