realistic happy endings

okay, so what do the single ladies say? i’m sexy and i know it, but too lazy to show it… (?) yes, that’s probably it. but you know you’re single when you spend the whole afternoon locked in your bedroom, crying yourself senseless while reading a sappy fan fiction. welcome to the single life.

but that is not the reason why i have came to write here. it is about my natural instincts as a writer, about the world, about life… in general.

i am scared, and although a lot of successful authors have said to not be scared in writing what you think, so long as you commit to your writing, i cannot not be scared. because it’s there… the fear is there–and at times it is so profound that it’s sickening me.

i’m a sucker for happy endings, i guess everyone who have been following my blog knows that. that fact is out in the open. who doesn’t like a happy ending anyways? but now that i’ve seen the world a little more, i knew that it is never a place of cotton candies and of unicorns, nor will it ever be. i’ve seen a child lose its mother hours after he was born; i know people who are currently struggling with HIV and cancer and other nasty illnesses; i’ve seen people lose their parents, their mother, their father, their daughter, their child… and i have found it to have altered the books or the stories that i choose to read. don’t get me wrong, i’m still pro-happy ending, but somehow i’ve drifted to the more realistic side of it. that loss is inevitable. and being an aspiring writer, i believe with all my heart that words are powerful. that sometimes it does fail to describe a situation, but through history, we know that the carefully arranged alphabets are what send nations to war, keep them at peace, sometimes also it constructs a declaration of love. and i’m scared that my writings will not do its power justice. it’s always there in my head, forcing me to heed it.

it always hits me how i may lack the ability to create a beautiful sad world, a world that teaches us to lose and move on, to fight for what we want, to kiss away grief, but at the same time be fearless to love and trust. that there is a possibility for me to write utter crap and no one will ever care for it. that i will never be able to create the type of writing that have touched me and mold me to the ‘me’ that i am now.

that is what i fear the most.

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