From that time up until now, I still write but with a different perspective and tactics from myself in 9 years ago. Being a writer isn't easy. I didn't know that fact when I start writing fumblingly. I didn't know what plagiarism was, I didn't know what plot and draft were and I didn't know how to write one story till the end of it. I only knew my passion and craving are so strong that I couldn't stop myself from daydreaming about writing and publishing my own works. I wrote and posted my stories online and I started to have online readers who I didn't know before. Although there were not many people, I was still glad some people read, comment and truly appreciated my works. 

     Until it got to the point that I didn't desire to write anymore. I craved for feedbacks and comments. I wrote and posted online because I need praises and comments, I need someone to talk about my works and it was not healthy at all. The feelings when I started writing slowly faded and left only the feelings of being noticed more and more. I started to feel like nobody on social networks. I compared my works with other popular writers. Things were getting worse, along with other factors around me including my family, mental health and university entrance, I decided to stop writing. 

     I stop writing because one day when I woke up and I had plenty of free time to write, I cannot write at all. The meaning of cannot write at all was the words that I spilled out on the screen are all rubbish. I wrote and not satisfied with my own works. My self-esteem was low, my loving for my own works was disappeared. So I stop writing and hope that one day I could gain back the same feelings I once had again.

     It took a year or maybe two years until I decided I want to write something again. My mental health was better and my self-love was fully charged. I thought I was ready when I came back. My readers were there but not as many as before. I didn't know where they went because eventually, they were strangers to me. I came back to write with a few comments and I tried not to lose my nerves. I knew these things were going to happen when writers were gone for a long time. I continued my hard works and focused on my regular readers who were always nice and kind to me. 

     There were times when some of my works gain a lot of success and some publishing contact me privately to sign a contract. I felt like I achieved one of my life goals until I started to know how people used to say don't turn your hobbies into works. I used to write with no deadlines, no rules, no expectations at all. Yet when it came to working in reality, I had to focus and take every word more seriously. It was a tough job and honestly, I kind of want to quit a little bit because it oppressed me. I was tense that I couldn't do good enough because the audience out there were too many. I should have been happy with future fame and feedbacks but I was scared because I was out of my safe zone.

     At last, I still didn't know what was wrong between my crave for comments was too strong or the readers were not being polite by reading and not leaving comments at all. There was still an argument about these topics nowadays and I decided not to join because it was toxic and unnecessary although I knew deep inside I still wish for a bigger success but something took time and something needed to go slow. 

Peerada P.

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