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  • "My writing often feels like it belongs to someone else because I will never be the person I was at the moment I wrote it."

    So true. Writing is catharsis, it is release, it gives vent, it allows closure, affirmation, confirmation. Yet, it also dissociates. It's a divorce of the current self from the past self. Writing allows the retention of memories, but something also happens to make those memories not quite my own anymore. Something is gained, something is lost. Perhaps it boils down to the written's inability to truly express what is experienced.

    We think in words, but those words are also associated with feelings, with moods, with emotions. Is it really ever possible to recapture those sentiments, once lost to the passage of time? Seconds, milliseconds, nanoseconds... it's never the same. Even as I write this, the words that were in my head are evolving, shifting, changing as my fingers hit the keys. The thought that triggered this entry is not the same thought that flows through my mind now, is not the same thought, thoughts that is, are being processed by my mind.

    There is disconnect, and the more I try to bring myself back to the very moment it all began, the farther I am for elucidating with any form of clarity, where my mind was at 5 minutes ago. This is perhaps why I am harshly against the vetting and drafting of anything I write, really. Because the more time and thought I put into it, the more it is not mine, but some other formless, shapeless, ceaseless voice in my head, heart, soul.

    The disjointed thoughts, the lack of coherent flow of my writing, at least I can claim that as mine, as that is indeed a true reflection of how my mind flirts and flits butterfly-like from thought to thought. In this way, the words themselves I feel I cannot claim as my own (not my present self) after the fact, but the manner of delivery, that's mine undoubtedly.

    And I am not reading this post back. It's not mine anymore.
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