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BY: A.L.

I sat on my favorite chair in my most familiar place in the house. Sunlight passed though the window screens and my cats were meowing as if to say I needed to start my write-up already. I caught myself staring at the empty papers that were on hiatus for more than two weeks. I reached for my pen and told myself that maybe it’s time to get this on. I started to think of any ideas for the soul of the piece yet it was transparent as a glass. I motioned for my hand to write anything and yet it was static on its own. It wont budge no matter how I commanded it to write and I knew I’ve lost it. It’s like losing your pen in the middle of the exam and it is nowhere to be found. The subject was already physics which required a lot of ink for the solution and I have to transfer it from my scratch paper to the exam paper since the instructions clearly stated that you’ll get a deduction of five points per erasures made. But how can you solve without your pen and time was already running and I wasn’t a girl scout who is obliged to bring extras like ball pens. Yet, here I am looking at the remaining numbers to be answered with no ball pen at hand much less an answer. It was annoying and at the same time a pain. It might be too much but there will always be a difference between an old pen you used to use and a new one you just bought even though they are the exact same product.

I decided to let the pen go. I stood up, grab a coffee, and looked outside. My three cats were playing tag with each other. They ran from corner to corner, up and down the walls, while their mother was sleeping peacefully under a light of the sun. As I having fun looking at the other three cats, I noticed it was hard for me to recognize who’s who. I couldn’t make what object was on the far corner. Everything was blurry. My head started to ache and my eyes already hurt just by using them. And then I realized my eyes have been separated from my glasses for more than half an hour already. I tried to look for it on my shelf but it wasn’t there. I have misplaced it somewhere. My current feelings were like that. It’s like misplacing something that has already become a part of who you are. It’s like reaching for your earphones in your bag but then you realized it even wasn’t there. You are already in the middle of an ocean of a crowd where you knew no one. Listening to your playlist has always been your escape from an unfamiliar crowd.


It’s always been our escape from life itself but not today, because today you forgot your earphones. It will always be frustrating and awkward walking alone with no company not even hearing the rhythms and beats we used to hear. It all felt like that. Losing the ability to write felt like losing your pen in the important part of the exam. It felt like something that was part of who you are was gone all of a sudden. It felt like forgetting something you were so familiar with. Yes, it’s easy for us to write with some basis but it will never be easy to write with your own style. The struggle of wanting to write something but you cant because you never thought that one day everything will leave you. Your words and style have finally failed you. Your hands and mind have gone static. Everything easily left you like how an idea drifts away all of a sudden when your mind is unstable. And with that, I thought I will never be able to write ever again. That is what I thought but one day my classmate handed my pen and told me it was just beneath my chair. One day, I found my glasses and realized it was just on the table the whole time, waiting for me to notice it. One day, the noise of the crowd became music to my ears and all the frustration and awkwardness suddenly evaporated. One day, I realized thinking that I lost the ability to write was stupid. I never lost it. It was there the whole time. The idea was underneath my nose or was just on the table. You can actually find a great idea in all corners; it’s just us who wants something complicated when we could make a simple thing matter. Let’s be honest. I cant write a good poem no matter how I try but writing is not only about poems, it’s all about conveying what’s in your head through your own style. We never lost the abilities that we have and we will always have the capability to do these again.

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