When I was about nine or ten years old, I created my first “magazine” out of boredom; it had a table of contents, advertisements, fake life stories and experiences of people, and the classic Embarrassing Moments! page that teen magazines always had. I created the whole thing out of a pile of short bond papers that I folded and stapled.
When I was around the same age, I started making short stories that had drawings on the background (like a children’s book) with the same tools: stacks of bond paper and a stapler. I had both good and bad memories of these fake books— my parents loved it because I’ve written and drawn the story of how they met based on how they told it to me and my siblings. One nanny of mine, on the other hand, hated the fuck out of it because I’ve written a story of how she and another guy from the neighborhood fell in love, but I made that guy into a fish. I know, can’t blame her either.
When I was in seventh grade, I made my first fanfiction. It wasn’t amazing or anything like that, but it wasn’t bad either. I knew the basics of writing a story, like how I should write the dialogues and how to describe them, so I guess I can say that it isn’t that cringe-worthy. I remember how I was so caught up with writing my fanfics that I sometimes prioritized it over reviewing for my exams. Did I regret prioritizing it? Nah.
Eighth grade came and I was still writing fanfics, although I wasn’t publishing them online anymore, unlike my first one. I could say that I improved in writing and storytelling at that time and my plots weren’t as cheesy as they used to be.
It was on my tenth grade where it all went downhill; I barely touched the notebooks that contained my stories (I guess I haven’t mentioned that I write my stories before I type them) and my essays were so half-assed that even I was shocked that I passed our English subject.
And now here I am, a college kid who’s procrastinating when I have a reflection paper of a film about my country’s national hero that’s due tomorrow morning. M O R N I N G.
I mean, I already have one
unfinished paragraph. My only dilemma is that I don’t know what else to write. I feel like I’ve made my point and what I felt about the film in those two sentences that I have in Word right now and I cannot add anything more.
I used to be fond of writing these kinds of things, and having to write about something that I genuinely liked should be easy, right?
I honestly don’t know anymore. It’s frustrating to know that I used to just effortlessly write about things and now it’s as if I have lost the ability to think and then elaborate those thoughts. Heck, I’ve even forgotten how to write a good introduction.
This sucks. Everything sucks. Just look at how much I have written in this post, and yet I can’t even finish one freaking paragraph in my assignment. Here’s hoping that I finish it before midnight.