This is Think out Loud. It’s a weekly meme created to help bloggers break out from the blogging bubble. The rules are simple. We post whatever we want and let people know what’s in our mind. Visit the creator on Thinks Books and join too. It’s so cool to share your random thoughts.
When I was a kid, and a very long time afterwards, I had an issue. I was bored. I mean seriously, I was bored! Every time someone was asking to see how I was, I had always the same answer: I’m bored.
My textbooks and books were marked by this phrase: I’m bored. Underlined and with small hearts surrounding it. This phrase had become something of a motto, something natural like saying my name. If you asked me my name around that time I’d say: I’m Athina and I’m bored.
This story kept going for far too long until I got really bored with this feeling of boredom. I remember pulling back my hand every time it was itching to write this word, but it had become an unconscious reaction and so I kept writing it down. Until I wake up one morning and I knew it was time to get over with it.
So I bought a notebook.
Until then, even if I was already writing, I hadn’t realized how much writing meant to me. When I sat on my bed and took the pen in my hands, when I wrote that very first line in that special notebook, I knew that writing was a part of me. And I say special, because this notebook with the mice out front, was more than a diary. It was like blueprint to the way out of boredom. The road I should follow to get of that maze.
I didn’t write every day, but I wrote when I had the need to make the thoughts into words, to make them real. And I kept writing for a while. I can’t remember how long I kept that notebook but only a few pages had left when it was time to let it go. It didn’t happen overnight and I though too much before destroying it, but it had fulfilled its purpose.
I let it burn in the fireplace a hot summer night. I set the pages ablaze and watch it burn at 2 am in the morning. Then I went to bed.
I didn’t wrote that phrase for a long time afterwards, but I will be lying if I say I didn’t wrote it again. I did in university one day when I was so sleepy and all I wanted was to go back home. But that was it.
You see, writing is more than just words on paper. Don't you agree?