I write under the pseudonym The Soliloquist.
I am a nursing graduate,21, currently working in a BPO company.
I am yet to figure out what I really want to do for the rest of my life.
The birth of The Soliloquist is brought about
the desire to express emotions through writing.
When I’m in the extremes of my emotions,
I want to write, so I don’t just explode.
Like when I am extremely happy,
or twitterpated like when I’m in love or I thought I am.
Or when I worry about stupid nonsense
Like if I’m living my life well or if my parents are proud of me.
Also, when I fail to guard my heart and control my emotions.
When I think I’m broken and in great turmoil,
Or when daydreaming is better than living reality,
When I want escape from the world’s crazy fascinating things
Or when stories of other people’s lives inspires me.
When I want to dig deep on bad situations and realize
there is something good about what happened
When I want to inspire others,
Or when random things and notions cross my mind.
Or when I want direction for my thoughts.
When I want escape, or I want to feel my emotions,
Or when I want to understand others,
By knowing myself first, my wants and preferences.
That above is an example of how disorganize my thoughts can be.
Forgive the blabber.
Because when I’m alone with my thoughts, self talk gets so silly.
I self talk.
I love writing. Letters. Poems. Thoughts. Literally.
I have a difficult time describing myself.
I will try. Prepare to be confused.
I do not know much. I am naive. I am weird.
I am fun. I am boring. I get excited.
I love myself. I am amazing.
I am stubborn. I am obedient.
I am complex. I am simple.
I am whole. I am okay.
I am broken. I am bent.
I cry easily . I am tough.
I am spiritual. Not too much.
I am scared. I take risks.
I don’t fit in. I am easy to talk to.
I smile. I am different. I am silly.
I have moved on. I’m stuck in the past.
I believe in loving the things that I do.
I’d want to know the things that I LOVE.
I don’t know what I want. I want to write.
I want to inspire. I want to listen.
I want to learn. I am yet to know myself.
I love. I laugh. But deep inside I cry.
I am happy because I declare I am.
I am happy because I choose to be.
I am not living my life to the fullest, yet.
So when self? When?
I am a psycho. I am happy deep inside.
La la la la
I am The Soliloquist.