The good kind of rush

There is a different kind of rush that I feel whenever I write. Sure, you may say I’m overly-romanticizing the act of writing, but don’t we all have the tendency to romanticize things? And why do I feel obliged to defend myself, anyway? Must be because I’m really romanticizing this haha.

Now, back to that rush. Only a few things get me excited, even if my Twitter feed may say so otherwise: the Lord’s grace in my life, Rainie Yang, random texts from friends, my family, a good Asian drama, worship leading, a cup of coffee, and great conversations with my favorite people. This year, teaching was recently added to the list (which, when I look at it now, really isn’t few haha).

Writing, however, is a different kind of exciting, a different kind of rush. In a scene from my favorite Japanese movie, Heavenly Forest, Makoto was teaching Shizuru how to do photography for the first time when Shizuru held her breath before taking a photo.

I think in a way, writing is like that for me. It’s the takes-your-breath-away kind of rush. Until I decide on my final title, and until I place the number 30 at the end of the page, the thrill goes on. My heart palpitates even without caffeine-intake, and I cannot stay still. I’m learning to write in noisier environments now, and it still takes getting used to, but just as I mentioned before, when I start writing and I get past the first train of thought, it pours.

I’ve been writing for three consecutive days now, but today I experienced that pouring again. I don’t know where I got what I wrote for an application, but my fingers just kept typing. Ideas kept coming in like floodwaters, bursting at the seams. I wrote sentences I never even thought I could put together before. There was this big smile in my face while I was writing for two plus hours.

Admittedly, I haven’t written as much as I should the past year. But maybe there’s really nothing wrong with that, and I just kept blaming myself for all the wrong things. Because ultimately, I’m here. And I’m writing. Again.

Albeit unofficially, and paycheck notwithstanding. Because, truth be told: I never wanted to be a journalist for the money anyway. It’s a bonus, but it’s not the goal. I only wanted to write. Because when I write, I feel invincible.

(Sort of)

This is the kind of rush I’m going back to. I missed it, and I’m glad I’m here, where I am, however uncertain these all may seem.

I like being here🙂

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