Since mid-2025, I’ve become strangely addicted to pen and paper.
I write whatever crosses my mind; random thoughts, small confessions, half-formed ideas, tiny frustrations.
It all started as a way of solving problems.
I once read that “a problem written down is a problem half solved,” and for some reason, that line stuck with me.

What began as a strategy slowly became a habit.
Now writing feels like the only place where my thoughts make sense.
It’s where I discover what I’m actually thinking about; the things hiding behind my silence, the emotions I pretend not to feel, the questions I keep postponing.

But the problem is this:
Writing is hard while I am incredibly lazy.

I have great thoughts in my head, but turning them into words feels like trying to translate a language I don’t speak fluently.
So I fall back on simple English, the ‘English’ that barely captures what I mean.
This essay is probably a perfect example.
My mind paints in high-resolution, but my words show up in low quality.

Still, despite all that, writing has given me more than I expected.

My thinking capacity has grown.
I read more because writing exposes my gaps.
I understand myself better.
And there’s something calming about seeing your thoughts laid out in front of you.

I’ve tried life without writing, and life with writing.
The difference is massive.

Without writing, everything stays messy in my head.
With writing, things feel clearer; not perfect, but clearer.

So if anyone asked me what I recommend between writing and not writing, I’d choose writing without hesitation. Not because I'm great at it, but because it makes me a little more human, a little more self-aware, and a little less lost.