Just let it grow. Whatever it is that you’re in love with doing right now. Writing, painting, music, photography, calligraphy and anything else under the sun. If it’s good for your soul then just let it bloom naturally. Don’t overthink the success, the audience, the amount of time you put into creating. Just let it be and let love be your guide every step in the way.
This is more of a mind dump than it is a properly structured post. I want to write freely, quickly and confidently like before. I guess behind writing poetry, prose, and quotes I also want to write personal essays, and I’ve been reading some stuff about how to create one, and this is one way to create one—by writing in a stream of consciousness to keep the creative juices flowing.
I actually like writing in freestyle because it reminds me of the time when blogging was simply blogging. Just taking everything that’s in my head and writing it down and feeling good about doing so. It’s therapeutic writing about anything, but it can also be self-destructive. For me, at least.
Anxiety and Pure-OCD really do affect my writing even if I don’t want to and if something feels wrong, I will delete it. You see, I even have this thing about the word count being perfect. Let’s call it “word count ocd” just in case someone might search this term on google. I like the feeling that bam! It’s exactly 500 words or 300 words or 60 words since six is like a “magical number” that my brain likes to think it is and eight is like a “bad luck number” that my brain likes to think it is.
This is one of the things that makes me want to kill myself because it’s so fucking weird and it makes me feel so fucking alone. I’ve already picked my destination to jump, and there are simply 108 days left for me to live.
I’ll be leaving my last collection which is beautiful nothingness. I have nothing to say about it for now. I’m sleep deprived again, and I can feel the weight of darkness pushing me deeper in this sea of uncertainty.
If my cause of death could be summarized in a single word, it’s uncertainty.
A poet loves someone not simply because that someone is poetry material. A poet loves someone because that someone makes them feel like poetry.
I founded this group early this year, and it lost its fire for a while, but I am here now to rekindle its flames. New Age Poets Society is for aspiring poets in this digital age. You can learn more here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/765496810308265/ 🌷
Thank you so much, everyone, who regularly tunes in to my blog. I really appreciate you all reading my stuff. I really do. I don’t know what’s next now for this blog. I’m thinking that perhaps it’s time to buy my own domain.
I wish I had the right words to commemorate this moment, this milestone but my thoughts are all over the place at the moment. I’m feeling anxious and sad about some stuffs in my life but what keeps me pushing forward is my growth as a writer.
Thank you so much as well for everyone who supported my two poetry collections. The first one I self-published when I was nineteen Confessions of a Wallflower and the latest one I self-published just this June I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction.
The real intention for this blog was really to just share my feelings because I was really depressed and sometimes I still am. I’m just blessed to have poetry as my outlet for coping with the harsh realities of human existence. I’m just blessed to have readers who also are feeling the same way when it comes to love, life, and mental illness.
So that’s all for now I guess. Just a simple thank you for each and every one of you for reading my stuff and being a part of the growth of my blog. This is where I first started sharing my poetry anyways, and I have great gratitude for my WordPress readers who’re still here with me after 2 years walking with me on my life’s journey. I love you all, and I just wish you all love, hope, and healing.
Here’s an interview that I did with Esthete Magazine: https://www.esthetemagazine.com/zine/conversation-with-juansen-dizon ❤ Check it out. 🙂
This my writing problem: I’m indecisive with the words I want to choose. There are so many possible ways a piece of writing can manifest itself. I don’t know if I want to choose the word beautiful or lovely or gorgeous. I don’t know if I started a piece right or ended a piece wrong. I don’t know if I wrote something too early or too late. Feelings are so hard to put into words. That’s why I think it’s important to set deadlines so when it’s done; it’s done. There’s no need to play with it or jolly it up. There’s only the next poem or prose. Moving on to the next big or small piece of writing is the only way a writer can stay alive in the art of creating. It’s both simple and complicated like that.
