There is pleasure in writing.

I have always wanted to write. There is pleasure in writing. There is enjoyment in expressing our views in words. We all do this when we speak. I have been writing something or the other right from my early childhood. I love words and their meanings.

I may not have any profound views. There is certainly an absence of novelty in my thoughts. It hardly matters to me for the moment. The very act of placing words together to express my views makes me happy.

I bestow a kind of permanence to my thoughts when I write them in words. I find a special joy when I read my own thoughts. They are my thoughts. They have come out of my own thinking. They are part of me. Still, at times, they look so alien to me. When I think of something that I have written quite a long time ago, I find it as though I never wrote those thoughts. They appear so remote and alien to me. What makes them appear so remote from me? I may have to investigate into this matter. Are they not my thoughts? Am I not the creator of those views?

I am like a small child learning to walk. It takes time for me to run, to write like an author. I am not an author yet. I may be one in future.