The Alien Butterflies

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Writing is such a daring assignment for which I have always been dragging my feet before. It takes an effort of reading some affirmative statements so as to show the way to an overriding emotion of stimulation along with an instinct to write that emerges out of nowhere and settles in the stomach like little butterflies waving their wings. It makes a woozy sensation, and I constantly think about the statement I was reading a while ago which makes me chuckle at my ignorance towards writing. The audacity to conquer writing what you actually believe in is sometimes terrorizing the same as the thought of revealing yourself to others' skulks before any other thought. Only the fear of exposition stops the pen from moving towards revealing reality but only in reality there is true honesty and substance, while passion knocks on the door. Furthermore, as I continue with this free flow of writing task without stopping to check my misspelled spellings, doesn't matter what is coming to my head, I will be editing soon after.

“To write, avoiding distractions is a must”, a common writing tip that is offered to young writers and listening to music is one way to do it. And I’m trying on that, I really am. The headphones pressed to my ears whisper a song to unleash ingenuity, at this instant I feel overpowered by the emotions of memory, of people I have met and haven’t met. People who live afar, in their own world and I don’t even know what they might be doing right now; to call them friends or strangers, to mention their names on the paper or let them be at a distance from the emotionally involved mind. There is just so much curiosity to discern their thoughts. The butterflies are making a commotion yet again, scratching through my skin.

All my friends are well acquainted with the void activism and looseness in my personality; I acknowledge them to give me liberty. I am conscious of the flurry impression when around them, and nervousness as they plan for a decisive future, and worried when I waste my time talking to people I barely know and won’t ever get to meet. But the aliens I am thinking about now, and while travelling in a bus or while facing a white wall…………….to be lost in my own randomness of emotions………..I feel emotionally involved towards the humankind, a pleasant sentiment about them, the people who are still kind and subsist in this planet, and I am not far from. Farewell to the butterflies as they make their way out, at present in the open space, at this time holding my thoughts, and at this instant away on a different ground.