Writers

Writers, I don't know if I'm one of them but I'm one of the few silent water that runs deep. I don't express thoughts the way that it should be vocally expressed but I do expressed it through this form of media. There's no other way of learning why writers write and how they manage to finish the day than living the life. 

It is way more acceptable to confront one's self in a way that you usually don't have to, rather than talking to your own self.  The thing about them, about "us", is that we see things in a different perspective. Different, that we often become misunderstood. We don't chase people but we kept on chasing rainbows. We dwell on the past but we keep on moving forward. We look for things that isn't there but we create worlds from scratch. It is through the blank pages that I create and draw the line between what is ideal and what is real. Writers write their thoughts down and risk losing it. 

I'm not always the "on-the go" and/or "always ready" type person, I was like Beethoven quoting, “If I don’t write it down immediately, I forget it right away. If I put it into a sketchbook, I never forget it and I never have to look it up again."

I may forgot dates and schedules, the words and the lines that you previously have told me few minutes ago or may it be way back 5 years but I remember the rest of everything in between as if I jotted it down in a journal or sketch pad. I remember details in spaces between seconds as much as how I remember every single thought that I tend to write down as I stare through those blank spaces. 

I may forgot the names inside your story but I remember the feelings that you have invested in each circumstances, the way your eyes look like while saying things that you ought to share. Like what Dunbar have said "Writers-----they remember every story you have told them- like ever!

I remember why you've done this and that, I remember your questions in details, the things that you hope for and the things that you regret. I remember the instant reactions that I'm not sure if chemistry and other areas of physics has something to do with it. I remember the way your eyes talk and how you glance managed to change the atmosphere. I remember how you laugh, how you smile and how you organized your thoughts and even the minor actions and the usual exchange of thoughts in an early to late afternoon conversation. I remember everything as if I jotted it down somewhere safer than those blank pages that I tend to carry somewhere. I remember how it feels to be at the edge of falling as if I was chasing rainbows and spinning wheels where everything tends to be black and white and we were something that shouts in a specific loud color but in reality it wasn't,  I was chasing dragons, falling somewhere in a cliff at the same time having something to be crumpled within my fist.