I’ll try to write what I’m thinking, even if I subtly edit my thoughts to make them sound more eloquent on paper. It’s important to me that my writing flows in an eloquent way. That’s why I think it’s so hard to write sometimes.

Sometimes my thoughts fragmented in tinges of emotions, bursts of light and color, alone phrases or words, unable to unify coherently. Sometimes I have trouble gluing words on a paper for others to understand those shards of ideas. Sometimes I don’t fully understand them as whole concepts, but am rather entranced by the beauty of their loneliness and ephemeral nature.

One of the most depressing moments are when those beauties fade away and I forget them and there is no way to call them back into existence.

I have often given up on ideas that came to me in pieces when I couldn’t complete the puzzle.

I think it’s because I don’t have faith in them. I don’t have faith that others will feel that same pleasure from their existence, that same gasp of beauty that I experienced.

And so it’s as if those ideas disappear into the cool rush of wind, never to be heard from again, never to be shared, never to truly exist.