7 Excerpts From My Writing Journal

I started a journal a while back to give my writings a home. It soon became an important part of my routine; writing an excerpt with a related art visual. It's not just a writing journal anymore, it's my treasury of words, that came from different parts of my life.

I have blogged about some entries before & today I am sharing some of my favorite entries in the journal.
'This sunset looked way too pigmented; as if the color palette of sorrow had been thrown on it. Yes, if sorrow had colors, it would be lilac mixed with pinks and some sneaky whites like the clouds at the twilight. I thought it was a masterpiece; a way of nature to tell that at the end of the day, each sobbed whisper goes directly to the skies. But before that, it leaves its color on the canvas of earth, one last time' — The Color of Whispers // writing journal entry # 25

(Sunsets are my favorite thing to talk about. Twilight is the time when sky spills its most beautiful shades and each shade looks like a stroke from a painter's palette to me. It's also the time for maghrib prayers that, as my mother would say, is the perfect time to pray for whatever you need. Inspired by all of it; this excerpt is a mix of religion and religious)

'We associate colors with emotions and I could never understand how it actually worked. The yellow in sunflowers and yellow on the cap of a syringe were two same shades but neither reflected the same emotions. Sunflowers were the part of the happy side of this color but that syringe, oh my, it was the most painful emotion yellow could emit. Perhaps I'll never understand it but these colors will always remind me of how each of their shade made things hard and easy for me' — the colorful emotions // writing journal entry # 21
(it's about the time when my grandmother used to take insulin injections due to her diabetes and seeing her using that painful needle wasn't easy for me. The color of the cap of her syringes used to be yellow-ish that would remind me of other happy shades of yellow so I could forget what other shades might be)

'I'm never convinced when people say beauty fades away. No, beauty stays. It stays in all its glory. It only shifts shapes. It gets old. I know of a beautiful house that's now withering away. But it's still, somehow, as beautiful as the first time I stepped in it, years ago. The old grandmother of mine is still beautiful, with wrinkles that time brought. If beauty were to fade away with time, we'd only be left with the horrors of glorious past' — The Beauty Stays // art journal entry # 20

(I don't like the comparison of beauty inside vs beauty outside. While it's quite obvious, sometimes it feels like people push beauty aside just because it's from the 'outside looks' clan. Appreciating beauty is important, too)

'The rays of light the sun that reflect on the white walls of my room have shone in the cities I have loved and the cities I have never wanted to be at. Yet the sunshine, without prejudice, come to all of us like a mother dividing a piece of chocolate equally to all of her kids.
There's no hate for territories in the system of nature. If there had been, then trust me, blood would be the only view we could see' — to the cities less loved // writing journal entry # 19

(Syria and other war inflicted cities were in my mind when I wrote this excerpt. Those cities are equally lovable. People there share the same sky as my city, inhale the same oxygen, but they don't have my privileges. It's heart wrenching but a solid reality. I hope they could soon share the same smiles as people at my side do)

'I wonder, what is it that keeps you going; a dream, a goal, or an old promise? There are certain debts that keep the fire in my heart ignited. Those debts are nothing out of the ordinary. They're the times when a stranger smiled at me and I realized there were still traces of kindness left in the world. They're moments when my mother told me she was proud of what I was doing. They're the prayers someone is blessing me without any acknowledgement.
They're my debts, certain liabilities, and if I die without paying them off them, it will be a debited death. And I don't want one of that type' — Debts // writing journal entry # 15

(I feel I owe a lot of acts of kindness from so many people. This excerpt was dedicated to each of them; and someday, perhaps I could pay them off to the others who might need to take away this debt for a while)

'I must accept I am a dreamer. That kind of dreamer people would use word hopeless for. That kind of dreamer who dreams bigger than their own existence. That kind of dreamer who's naive enough to dream. And if you're one like me, I hope you have the courage to embrace this word Dreamer so whenever you accomplish your dreams, the world can know your dreams were worth it, all this time' — Dreamers // writing journal entry # 13

(#highfve dreamers!!!)
'I looked at my hands and confirmed the emptiness they held. The kind of emptiness when you've held everything you've ever wanted and then it just went away. Away so away that nothing in the world could ever bring them back. I held the emptiness until I could no longer do that. Little do people know about the weight of it; it's heavier than tangible goods. I dropped it on the ground to never return back.
However, I go back to hold it after every once in a while. But it's not with me anymore; — Emptiness // writing journal entry # 8

(Losing things that used to matter once, materialistically, helped me gain balance as a human being. It seemed terrifying to not have everything I loved, but the positive effects of it were far more calming than having everything to myself. The emptiness isn't all that bad, my friends)

These excerpts are my personal faves; remind me of good and bad times yet they made those gone moments pretty much alive. I wouldn't want to live all of them again, but having lived them feels like an accomplishment itself.

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Do you keep a journal?
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