Tuesday, August 13, 2019


“The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul.” -Dieter F. Uchdorf

I can’t think of a more suitable phrase that reflects my emotions towards writing. The right words can make a single piece of paper or the tiniest pebble as interesting as a rare, expensive piece of art that only few understand, whilst the majority would taunt for being either too simple of explicitly complicated.

Writing is a huge part of my life. Even when I was in grade school, I would write sentimental notes on the last pages of my school notebook, tear it up, cut the edges to even out every corner, and give it to my parents whenever I was upset. At that time, the creativity and wave of ideas appeared when I would experience strong emotions- anger, sadness, being upset, or even confusion. I would use simple phrases that hold the deepest meanings, or metaphors that are obvious and at the same time propelling to an unexpected turn of events.

I used to draw. I would draw first before writing to make a piece more dramatic. The most amusing and quite sad memory I have is when I lost a notebook full of my drawings and poems (yes, I used to spend my weekends and free time doing poetry or short stories) at our old house. It was very special to me because that was the time when I just started to write, so my energy was always at max. As I’ve mentioned earlier, it was during my grade school years at Ateneo. Every time I reminisce about that precious notebook with all the crumpled pages and extra drawings above certain words to further amplify the message being sent, a little part of me just wants to carelessly hop on a time machine, no matter how unsafe of a prototype it is, and save it from whatever would have happened.

Even with the hectic schedules of being a student doctor- 36-hour duties, no days off, no vacations, limited food choices depending on the area I was assigned to, I always volunteered, if not volunteered for, to do paperwork that involved writing.. or at least to get to use a keyboard and type again. To type in an accelerated speed while staring straight at the monitor as ideas flowed through my mind, then rephrasing it afterwards so it wouldn’t seem as though the writing wasn’t really thought of well, is such a stress-reliever. It’s funny how your hand wouldn’t stop typing even when you have nothing else to come up with. It sounds weird, but it actually happens. I was so used to using deeper terms or flowery phrases that at times my resident or consultant would ask me to revise certain legal documents. Old habbits.

I’m back.