ninabobo
2 min readOct 12, 2020

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Today, I wrote. I wish I could keep track of how many word counts I have reached today like an old man on the verge of death counting their steps. Because at time, I feel like wringing my arms to its extreme pain for writing too much nonsense. Nonsense because they are infused with all shades of insecurities. Insecurities as in the “I want to show off kind”, “I am better than you kind”, “dont touch my words kind.”

I had learned that wanting to write is meaningless if you cant tone the ego down. X taught me this. Telling me that I am boastful and a walking imposter syndrome that everything I see in words is just me, not the topic. Few months ago he mocked M, a young talented photographer, for his humorless photography and that he doesn’t trust him to deliver. I listened through his ranting which seems to be directed at his past colleague he felt resentful, and at the same time, I feel the uncanny resemblance between me and M.

I am not funny and worse, I am full of myself. This might be only obvious to me because I know my internal dialogues consist of me being fearful that I wont reach the highest of the high achievement. But I do take myself too seriously. Too seriously that my heart skips a beat and that my skin is stretched like rubber, it lose its elasticity to return to its original form.

I do, sometimes, dont remember the fun of writing. The moment when words dont need to carry such a heavy weight of self actualization. When words just make a fun flyby, dancing retrograde as it slowly settles into our hands and we can carefully, listens to its inner vibrations. When words are like baloons, with ideas as air. And they levitate above the grounds, carrying with them our imaginations.

My words are old and have a lot of emotional baggage. It’s rusty and wants so many things, then regrets so many things. It’s an emotional thing, and it wont let go.

I think for those whose words are being rusty because their thoughts are clouded with self doubts, just know that your thoughts are under hostage. Hostagr of ur own ego

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