“My name is Sherina, I’m about to turn 23 next month, …”
I usually stop there and run out of ideas on how to introduce myself.
You see, I am just a regular human being whose frontal lobe is not fully developed yet. I go by the name Sherina, a beautiful word if you ask me. I am turning 23 next month, the very month of May that I always wait for every year.
May, the month when I wish things would change.
I am not saying that things have been… not to be thankful for lately. It has been a wonderful age for me; 22 has been the cycle of being self-taught. I might as well write a separate story for this amazing period of time.
Yes, May.
The change that I seek is filled with progress, signs, and endings that I do not know of. My journey so far… is full of questions and ideas of hobbies as drafts.
Drafts of things I want to do, food I want to taste and try to address as my favorite food if I get asked, places I want to visit, clothes I want to wear, hobbies I want to try and claim as mine, and someone who I want to be.
Speaking of which, I used to dream to become a writer. I cannot remember when and how that dream died out, but I always have the desire to write with me; I’ll try to keep it with me.
I used to read a lot, The Hunger Games trilogy was the peak of my addiction to books. I could finish a book in one sitting, as I would forget to eat if I weren’t being reminded to.
From that addiction, I become more active in developing stories inside my head. I wrote a Microsoft Word novel with a laptop that I don’t even know the whereabouts is, I wrote short stories, I joined the journalism club, and I was passionate about writing back then.
As I said before, I don’t remember stopping to pursue my dream to be a writer, and years later I got into the English Studies program.
That is when I wrote the most; for assignments of course. Not limited to tasks and exams, I wrote short stories and notes.
I feel free and relieved when I pour my thoughts into letters, the process is usually fast as I try to write as much as I can. I find writing to be liberating, it is a way for me to relax and wind down.
Not so long ago, I made an anonymous blog under my pseudonym. As I re-read the content two years later, it was… full of hatred. It is a place where I pour my negativity. I treated writing as a way to escape something that made me question my self-worth.
I am not saying that what I did two years ago was bad, nor it is a poor example of writing. It proves that writing is indeed liberating, I can let go lots of different emotions, thoughts, and inspirations while I also feel relieved for it.
And I will start doing it as my way to liberate myself.
In case I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!
