Travel Writer

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Writing is such an ultimate source of relief for me. It doesn’t matter what I write about. It doesn’t matter how long or how short it would be. The only reason why I write is to share a piece of me. It’s difficult for me to relate and interact with people verbally. I’m not expressive by telling them things. I’m more on doing things or letting them feel things than actually saying things to them. I am not even good in explaining myself in talking. I’d rather be given ten minutes to write about what I want to say that say it straightforward. But of course, life doesn’t work that way.

An introvert, like me, must cope up to the demands of the social world. I’ve been trying my best, though. I’m really trying hard.

Writing is a passion I can’t just let go. I feel so much for writing as much as I feel for reading. The two just go together. I wouldn’t feel complete without one or the other. Imagine that writing and reading are my arms and if one gives up or is disfunctional, it wouldn’t be the same as having two arms and I wouldn’t be as functional as I was.

It saddens me a little that the people who likes the same things as me, and maybe who reads the same books that I read and write blog posts and/ or has a journal are definitely scarce. I don’t meet a lot of them in person. Maybe most of us are closet writers or closet bloggers. Like me. None of my close friends know about this blog nor I have the plan to tell them about it and let them read it.

That would be really embarrassing.

I’m still dreaming of that say to come when I can have writing as my job. I’d love every single day of it. It wouldn’t matter if I encounter struggles with it but as long as I get to run my fingers on a keyboard or write on a paper manually and have my hand be in pain at the end of the day because of writing too much, I’d bear it because you will bear everything for something you love. The same principle applies to people but let’s focus with¬†Writing here.

Whenever someone would ask me what I want to do after college, I’d hesitate before I answer because there’s only one thing in my mind that I want to do and it’s been the only answer I’ve been giving to the people who asked, but with much reluctance, because they might think of it too much of a dream or very unrealistic or ambitious. But I tell them anyway.

I tell them that I want to become a travel writer. That’s it.

I imagine myself being a nomad for many months a year just going around places, near and far, everywhere and write about them and whatever in those places that could inspire me.

I am not for a mundane employee life with the same routine every single day. I don’t mean to insult them. I am not insulting their jobs. I don’t say that they’re not worthy citizens of this world because they are. I’m just saying that I may not be able to bear it if I allow myself to be stuck in an office when my mind only wishes and lusts for wandering. Income might not be as abundant as if I were to work for a company but the satisfaction it will give me will be priceless. Did that just sound like a cliche?

Well, all of us have dreams and would do anything and everything to at least have a taste on what it’s like to be living our dreams. and I would like to be one of those people who lives their dream.

With hope.

xx, K

 

Dream Entry

It started with me walking home. A neighbor asked me when we’ll be going to the cemetery because she wanted to go with us. She wanted a free ride. I think it was All Soul’s Day.

Then at the house, I was with my work mates. It was our old house We were having dinner, I think. We were celebrating something. And then a part of the house was our office. Our manager called us.

He said not to eat that one dish because it’s spoiled. So we all agreed. And then when they were all gone, I tried to taste that food but it wasn’t spoiled. It was far from spoiled. It was delicious. The manager caught me so I told him that I didn’t think the food was spoiled.

He told me that I shouldnt tell anyone. It was kind of a threat. So I got a little scared. I didn’t understand why he would make it a big deal about me telling the others about the food

When I got back to the kitchen where my work mates were, I told them what happened. Because I was scared. And I made them promise not to tell.

It was a blur what happened next.
I just remember this next scene which was far from the first one.

We were entering the mansion of a family where we will live from that day on. I didn’t know why. I think my mum married the man who owned the mansion.
In real life my mum and dad are still together. So I don’t understand why she would marry another man in my dream. Well it’s a dream. So…

It had an enormous front lawn with short green grasses and a huge tree at the far left. It was a colorful day. I only dream in colors so rarely.
The man had a son, about my age, I forgot his face, and a daughter and a youngest son. Or was that a cousin, I forgot. The mansion was so beautiful. There were a lot of people but I didn’t remember their faces. I wasn’t looking at them.

I remember roaming around. In my dream it seemed that our families were close. So I took the freedom of checking the rooms. Looking for empty rooms where I’ll be staying.
But the funny thing is that I found myself looking for the eldest son’s room. In my dream we were sort of friends too. And we got along.

I checked each room and checked the things in the room if I’d find any sign of him owining the room.

The first room I opened, I was sure it was the youngest son’s room because it said at the door “Welcome awesome Wizard of Hogwarts”

I moved on until I found this toilet. When I opened it, at the other side of the toilet was a blue door with a smokey square glass on the top part. It must be someone’s room because I saw figures. And I heard noises. Someone was playing the guitar and the others were laughing. So I closed it and moved on to the next. I didn’t think it was his room because I thought he was still downstairs with the other family members.

I remember thinking that it was a strange room because it was a room within a toilet.

Having no idea which room was his, I asked the help. She pointed me the toilet where I just opened a while ago.
So I went back and decided to open the blue door. I was startled. Like my eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. He was there. And looked like all of his friends were too.

“Sorry.” I said as I recoiled to close the door.

But he stopped me and let me in.
So I went in. I smiled awkwardly to his friends and found an empty corner where I decided to stay. Another funny thing is that I lay down on the corner of his closet and coiled under the clothes. I didn’t know why.

Then he went to me and told me it was one of his favorite places too. I smiled and sat up.
I didn’t know why but his friends started to leave. I checked out his room.
I liked that it was isolated. It was so hidden and secured. On the corner of his room there was an opening. Just a small opening at the bottom of the wall runs from end to end where I could see a hallway in the mansion and people passing by.

He started to talk to me. I stood and saw that there was only a friend left.
I think that we were really close because I immediately fell on my back lying on his bed and closed my eyes. I felt him lying above my head.

I heard the last friend left. It was just the two of us.

We were talking but I forgot what we were talking about.
My feet were dangling on the bottom of his bed and my arms were spread to my sides.

And then he put a black cloth on my face. Then he said:

“So that the world will not see you when you don’t want to.”

I didn’t know why but I nodded and almost cried. But I didn’t. I felt an emotion. Sadness. Emptiness. It was bizarre. It seemed like we understood each other beyond explanations. We understood each other’s souls like we’ve known each other for an eternity. He understood me without me uttering the words which I most of the time fail to use in expressing myself.

I felt his hand on mine and we were just like that for a moment. I liked it. It didn’t feel malicious. It was an innocent, friendly physical contact. And it felt that holding each other’s hand was enough.

Then a while later, we heard my mom calling for us. I told him to ignore but he said we should go. So we did. Mum said that lunch was ready.

Mum was suspicious. I felt it. So I told her that the guy’s room was great. I tried to be over cheerful and all. He had this and he had that in his room and I pretended that I forgot the guy’s name so I asked him.

And it came out that I did really forgot his name. I thought his name was Trey but it was not. I don’t know where the Trey came from. Now I forgot the name that he said when he corrected me.

The next part was blurry. We went to the mall to shop. I was with him, his sister, and mum.

We had this secret. A quiet one. I could feel it in the way we looked at each other. A secret that we don’t think we needed to share to others but ourselves. It was a nice feeling having someone understands you so deeply even just in a dream.

And that’s all I could remember because I was woke up with a loud knock on my door.

xx K