“In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.”

Growing up, I’ve always loved writing. As a kid, I was always fascinated by books. I love the smell of it, the feel of it in my hands, and the words inside it that I sometimes do not understand. Every time my mom and I go to the mall, I’ll head straight to the bookstore. Not only to buy books but also stationary. Then at home I will make summaries of the books that I am going to make. (Although I never finished writing a book). That’s me. At an early age I figured out that’s what I’m gonna be.

I joined the school paper in my freshman year in high school.

Room 2. 4:00 PM

Says the note at the bulletin board.

This is it. My first step.

On that day, some of my friends and I walked in Room 2. I was nervous, lot of people want to join including sophomores, juniors and some seniors. They all seem confident enough to actually join the school paper. Negative thoughts ran across my mind.

What am I thinking?

Can I really join the school paper? 

I think I’m not prepared yet.

I hope they won’t laugh at what I wrote.

Ugh. I want to leave this room as soon as possible.

I just wrote what the Editor-in-Chief told us to.

What if I can?

I dwelt on this thought to keep my spirits high.

I hoped for the best that I will be lucky enough for my article to be chosen.

It took, one, two, three more eliminations before they finally choose the “lucky ones”.

And I was right! I was so lucky to be part of the school paper.

I’ve joined seminars and journalism contests where I won and lost, met new people, gained new friends, but I want something more.

I want to actually share my thoughts with other people.

Not just inside our classroom, or in the judge’s hands, but to the world.

So in 2015, I started blogging.

I blogged about social media and why I quit using it.

(But I use it now)

I blogged about the perks of being single.

(But I… nah, still single)

I thought I’m doing great, but there goes the thoughts again:

What if people don’t like me?

What if they criticize my work?

I’m not a native English speaker, what the hell am I thinking?

My head was full of “what if’s”.

After three consecutive days of blogging, I quit.

You read it right I quitted blogging.

I quitted because I was scared of being criticized.

I was so scared because at that time, I’m like a fragile glass.

I care too much about what other people say that I was never able to show who I really am and what I really feel.

This year, I decided to blog again.

For everyone else to see that, THIS IS ME!

And to prove myself that I’m not scared anymore.

Credits: Google Images

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