Fortitude & Verisimilitude

“I am giving up when I am not yet even there.”

That’s what I said yesterday; all resolve evaporating into thin air. I know I have been blatantly fickle since who-knows-when, and scientifically speaking, it might be due to my underdeveloped amygdala, but that’s not it.

There are so many factors as to why I’ve fallen in and out of love with shifting. I know, I used to be so sure of it. I felt the calling come to rest underneath my skin and linger there; a tattoo carved on my flesh.

But somewhere deep down, a silent fear has always been brewing. It brewed and boiled until I could no longer quell it with my own courage, until I became a prisoner of my own confusion, until I became the coward that I am.

And so, here is a letter to the Future Me, just in case I look back at this point with a rueful heart;

Dear Future Self,

First of all, I know that you would be looking back. I know that because in essence, you were once me and I am now you. One thing you should know is that you have nothing to regret about, because right this very moment (in my present and in your past), you want to stay.

You want to stay not because you want to please others, but because you realized that “happiness depends upon the tides of the mind”, because you learned that this is a life you’re sharing with God and no one else can have it in possession but you. Yes, you have always wanted to write and no one can take that away from you. You are already a writer ever since you began reading worlds, ever since you started sharing the lives of characters apart from your own.

You are a writer.

Perhaps you have lacked the fortitude to saunter along the path towards Writing, but that is not a frustration to dwell upon; it is an experience to uphold: that you have been brave enough to choose Dentistry.

You are going to be awesome. Wait. You already are.

Love, Past Self

P.S. You never gave up on Writing. Never.

I will not bid my writing dreams goodbye. Just because I chose Dentistry doesn’t mean I have sealed my jar of words closed.

My story waits to be written.

Lastly, another reminder is idling by here.


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