“We read and write poems not because they’re cute. We read and write poems because we are part of a human race.” – Mr. Keating, Dead Poets Society
I caught this line said by Mr. Keating, the English teacher in the movie Dead Poets Society. It struck me as simple yet quite uplifting.
I remember writing poems back in high school and never did it strike me as something cute. I actually found it sometimes tedious and more like a struggle diving into the deepest of my thoughts ’til I start pecking into my own subconscious. And squeezing my subconscious, even only a bit, felt like torture. Like I was suffering from amnesia and someone wanted me to extract every bit of memory that remained in me. Awful.
Yet surprisingly, I came across the fun of writing. Later, I took it as the boldest, most rational way of understanding life from my vista. Perhaps that was how I became part of a human race. Unknowingly.
Since the time I discovered that I had my own way with words, I have always confided to writing. It connived all kinds of emotions I both celebrated and ranted about. Sometimes I wrote out of inspiration; oftentimes just about non-sense. Either way, I felt human with what freedom I had to write about myself, how I felt, and anything beyond what I’ve known about myself.
Writing. It’s nothing cute. It’s beautiful.