I wonder if writing ever makes you heal faster. The feelings etched beneath your skin get inked on paper in the attempt of getting it off your chest.
Writing forces you to remember all the memories that flow in, like as if the floodgates have just been opened.
Writing makes you compartmentalise the happy memories from the sad and bitter ones. It gives you the option, or rather liberty, to either focus on the good or the bad.
Writing makes the first kiss all the more real as if the taste of it still lingers on your fingertips.
It makes you remember the time your heart skipped a beat as if it were running with the aid of a pacemaker and he was the master.
Everyone writes lyrically about the beauty of love when in love. After all, they say “at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.” But when love turns painful, one tries to disguise it.
So beneath these naked words, lie painful memories that torment like a demon.