Sometimes, we just want to make sense of all the thoughts inside our heads. Yet, conversations with people aren’t enough and most of the time superficial. So we seek an outlet to let all the words out. We grab our pens and bleed words we badly want to utter. We write until words run out and the only thing that remain is the bleeding. No, not the physical bleeding or the tangible one but the bleeding that flows inside us – the bleeding of hope.
In writing, we can discover a new found hope. A hope that someday, someone can hear us out… can hear the voices inside our minds… can hear the words we want to say but can’t utter. A hope that someday, we can hear our own… we can stop the shouting voices in our minds… and we can finally utter the words we badly want to say.