Happy national poetry day! I shall mark my calendar because I was not aware of this occasion up until some tweet notifications came through.
The year of 2015 was the peak of my writing. Everything was so unexplored yet so genuine. As I was growing and taking the first steps towards more serious and consistent ways of expressing myself, the emotion was very raw and there was a lot of it.
Today I felt ill. In a state between consciousness and silence, there was a stumbling me. As I dizzily made my way to the bathroom, my body was on fire and one glance at the mirror had me staring back, through blood.
Sometimes I look back and can't believe that I used to be a bookworm. And it's not because I can't imagine myself with a book or am not the type to enjoy reading anymore. No, it's because I haven't touched a book in such a long time that just thinking about it makes me silently go 'woah.'
When it comes to poetry, my journey begins way earlier than you'd expect. However, at the time I was less aware of the word 'poetry' and more into 'these lines sound pretty when they rhyme.'