Duende

According to this article by Tara Jessop written on July 7, 2017, Duende is a word which means "a heightened sense of emotion, passion, and inspiration. I find that this word fits perfectly for another prompt that I found from this list. This time the prompt is to write about why I write.

For a better understanding of my reason, we may have to go back a few years back before I can share the why of my writing journey. It all started when I was in Grade 10.

It was a time where the pressure of being in a Science High School started to take its toll on me. For the past three years, I have been able to cope somehow and I have been able to keep up the facade of being happy and feeling like I belong. It changed during Grade 10 for it is when one of my best friends (not anymore) started to make me feel inferior to her. She criticized all my works and my appearance. She acted as if she knew what was best for me and I should just listen to her.

This situation led me to distance myself with her as I try to settle my thoughts and reassure myself that she means well. This constant battle is the one that greets me every day. This is also the time when I started cutting myself. I thought to myself that I can always stop but once I felt the pain and the calmness it brings, I could not stop myself anymore.

I would go to school with cuts under my breasts, on my legs, and anywhere that my clothing would hide. I would also put alcohol on them to make them sting, to make me feel something for I have been feeling empty inside. This routine helped me keep up my optimistic mask with my other friends and I thought it would be okay. My writing journey started here. I would write what I thought and what I felt that day every day. It helped me because I could pretend that the emptiness is just a dream.

I stayed at the edge of that darkness in my mind, sure of my ability to never fall but then something happened. The last straw that sent me over the edge was when my then-best friend shouted at me in the middle of the street, in front of the school gates because I was not able to attend the classes. She thought I was skipping because I am lazy and she screamed at me there while people were looking at us. I felt so ashamed of myself. I told her that I just lost a family member that is why I could not concentrate, and chose to not attend an elective class for the first time. It did not help because she kept screaming and I just turned my back and did not look back. I went home that night feeling miserable. I remembered thinking, "Thank God it's Friday, I won't have to see her tomorrow."

Monday morning came, I did not get any sleep at all last night. I could hear the sound of my family member sleeping and I was just playing with my scalpel, cutting myself here and there. Then I remembered that I will have to face her again if I came to class. The panic that seized me then is something that I have never experienced before and after. It disoriented me and I could not think straight. The only thing that kept going through my head is that it will not matter if I died.

That day, I took the scalpel deeper than ever and watched the blood pour out like a fountain. I remembered the peace that settled in me then when I realized I will not have to face her. I stayed there on my bed just waiting for it to end when I heard my parents waking up to prepare for the day. They were going to cook some Beef Pares to sell and hearing them moving about cleared my mind a bit.

My parents were getting old and still they are working hard to give us a better future. I imagined it then, that my mother would wake me up because I was the one with the earliest schedule. Instead of finding a sleeping daughter, she would find a still warm corpse. I saw it in my mind, how she would not have been able to say anything but scream and everyone of them will see me. They would wonder why and see my notebooks. Even in my foggy mind, I knew that I did not want that.

So I forced myself to get down the double deck, and ask my parents to take me to the hospital. The rest is easily summarized. I was able to get out and get checked by a medical professional who gave me something to help with my mind. My sisters found my notebook and I remember my sister saying that the words I had written seems like it was from a novel and I remembered being proud but I did not say anything because they were under the impression that I wrote it while I was dreaming.

The unintended compliment of my writing pushed me forward. I took the time to recover for a year. Then I started writing again, just like before I write because I wanted to express what I felt. I write to tell the world that I am in pain or that I am happy or whatever it is that I am feeling. I write to think out loud. I shared my writing on Tumblr and received numerous compliments which made me believe in myself more.

The thing that has always best described my reason for writing is my pseudo name. I wrote about it before on my introductory article but I will reiterate it again. Zehra is a name which means beautiful or flowers. When put together as Zehra Sky, it states that the words I write are as fleeting as the flowers floating to the sky, beautiful and short-lived but the memory stays with you.

This is the reason why I write, I want to offer the comfort that I needed on my darkest days to anyone who may need it. I want to share the joy I felt to anyone who is drowning in sadness. I want to paint blue with people who are feeling hopeless. I want to be there for people using my words. I want them to know that someone, somewhere in the world, is a person behind the screen who understood what they feel. I want my words to serve as a reminder to the readers that they are never alone.

I want my words to be the solace that others seek when the world becomes too much. It is okay if they forget it once they feel better. I know that somehow the memory of what they felt when reading it would linger, just like how the picture of the rain of flowers lingers in our minds.

Duende relates to my reason as my aim is to heighten one's emotions when reading. I also want them to feel the passion I have for writing and hoped that they will find theirs someday too. Most importantly, I write because I want my words to be a source of inspiration for someone. Even if it is just one person, I know that I have fulfilled my goal. This is the reason why I write even when it hurts and frustrates me sometimes.