Events Which Shaped Me As A Writer

Oh damn. Finally getting into my blog pocket, eh? Hey guys, I'm Para Phrased. I'm a poet and a writer and am aiming to turn writing into my profession. I'm alrightishly well known in the community because of my poems and because I love talkin' to people, and have often faced questions about my pen name or my inspiration to write. I love being an open book and I love answering questions (unless I'm really really uncomfortable with a concerned question), and I was trying to increase the number of non literary and casual blogs in my profile. To quench both of these thirsts, this is the idea that I've come up with. I have decided to give out flowers to everything and everyone which and who have shaped me as the writer that I am today. I'll try to keep it as less tragic as possible.

PS : Ignore typos if any. I'll work on those.

Trigger warning : there will be mention of depression and death at one point.

Let's get into this blog.

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1. My cousin sister.

I looked at my sister as she sat there, reading. Shining under the sun, looking as pretty as she always did. I calling her an angel for as many times as we ever met, and I how much I meant it every time the words were ever said. I was a child back then, 5 years in age and I could barely even read, but I'd still sit there with books in front of me. I'd ask her to read out what she was reading so that I could try to understand what exactly was it that she loved more than the barbecue going on in the other side of the lawn, to try and understand what could be more important than chicken, or fried vegetables, food with which you could, very honestly, convince me to kill myself. She being the kind person she always was, translated each word to me.

This was how I first understood the beauty of books and I each day that went into shaping that mindset into me. How on the first day she explained what the word "Oblivion," meant and on the last day, what the word "love" truly did.

She was my cousin sister. Let's just call her Aria. And boy, was she precious.

2. Discovering Sherlock Holmes.

My pre 8th birthday's gift came from that very sister. It was a purple gift wrapper. Classic Indian choices. Maybe worldwide even? I'm not too sure. I how I didn't bother to preserve the packing and cut open the tapes in a way that the wrap could be used later. And later, I was sure taught a lesson with a lecture that possibly lasted longer than any of Sherlock Holmes' scene deductions.

That gives me the perfect segue to talk about how amazing the gift that my sister gave me was. It was the Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and the amount of things I learnt from that book was beyond just phenomenal.

I have always had a *tough* family life. My foster family was never too kind and reading Sherlock Holmes was probably when I had my happiest moments of my life for a very long time.

3. The Cutting Down of The Old Banyan tree

The saws ran, the axes chopped, first came down the leaves in a pace ever so soft. They touched the ground after ages of floating around. Ages to me at least, as my favorite tree was being demolished for more building ground. Second came the branches which broke out there and there and third, the trunk larger than any human, not only in size but also in memories and love.

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Although my foster family wasn't all that amazing, my cousins were always my best friends. Our eldest cousin was the closest to me. I've already mentioned her twice. Thrice if we count this. But everyone else was really nice too. We'd all meet in my Aria's (my eldest cousin) place at least once a month and sing, goof around. Her family had this huge Banyan tree in their backyard (their house is basically a mansion) and I had extremely close memories to it. It was cut down to extend their house even further. Both Old Sis Aria and I cried. Still the day.

My first poem was about it. So yep! That's a huge deal.

4. Shakespeare

My first poems were basically bad Shakespeare rip offs. Zero emotions, and attempts at huge words with a lack of linkable coherence. That got me into a lot of trouble when it came to actually trying to do something productive with my writing and it just stayed a hobby for a really long time.

6. Discovering Eminem

The first ever song that I heard from him was called "I'll Hurt You" which was actually a Busta Rhymes song featuring Eminem. While my friends were freaking out over the speed of their rapping. I was freaking out over not just their rapping but their writing too. Especially Eminem's. The God Tier double enterdres? Boi. Don't sleep on him.

6. Getting my pen name

I sat there, in the corner of the classroom after everyone had left. Alone, wetting the desk I always sat on with my tears. Of rejection and dejection. 13 year old me crying over being the only aspiring poet from the class who wasn't published in the school magazine amongst 21 others. (Funny how I'm the only one among all of us who still dreams to be a writer). In came an angel, to stroke my hair. She sat down and said "why don't you try to write now instead of shedding tears?"

I looked at her and said "I can't think when I'm sad" and she replied with an outrageous "Why don't you just feel instead?"

I was angry, so angry. I thought "Another one who asks me to write about what I feel when all I feel is pain. Alright, I'll just finally write my anger and sadness and scare the whole world away"

I wrote as I cried and I cried as I wrote and she sat there, never for once shifting her hand away from my shoulder and it was comforting in a weird way; her hold.

When I was done and I pushed the paper to her; looking at her like a dejected beast about to be dejected further, I saw her shed tears and say the words that I always wanted to hear. "This is beautiful".

She being the poet she was, made a poem of her own. She said "You changed yourself to be more understandable. You paraphrased yourself. That should be your pen name. Para Phrased."

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'she' here is basically my first girlfriend. We went on to date later on when we were both a couple of years older. But yeah. Although, I've added, changed and improved a lot today she coined me my Pen name and made me write the way that I do today. So, thank you to her :heart:

7. Getting Introduced to Ed Sheeran

Another song writer which inspired my writing to a whole different level. "Shape of you" wasn't the real Ed. That was the commercial Ed. The real Ed Sheeran, stems from songs like U.N.I, Sofa, Little Bird, Dive, Happier. And that's the Ed that got me inspired. That made me fall in love.

8. Getting Introduced to John Green and Paulo Coelho

John and Paulo are two of my favorite writers of all time regardless of how much hate you wanna give them. Especially John. Boy is he hated. Their writing style is mostly what I use when I'm writing traditional stories. They're very different from each other. While John is rawness and emotions and humor off the top of his mind. Paulo is polished and thinking and philosophies which come from his mind. That makes it more fun trying to find a balance.

9. Losing my cousin sister

I reach her place to find her, not yet awake. She was still up in her room and I decided I'll just fill my stomach first, because my aunt told me that she has been in a happy mood.

The love of her life (let's call him Bryan) threw a fist bump my way and I returned it. He had just come back from work overnight and was just as hungry as me if not more. But he did what I didn't. He did what I should have. He walked up the stairs to knock on her door. No response. Knock again. No response. Each knock got louder and each time the silence was more harrowing. Till finally the silence from inside the room turned into harrowing calls from his heart. "Aria," he shouted, "ARIA" he shouted again and by the time I rushed to reach his side there were tears rolling down his eyes. By the time I reached by his side, he was already trying to kick down the door. I ed in without questions asked and with one kick synchronised with his, the door came down. And with one kick synchronised with his, both of our worlds were kicked down. There lied my sister and there lied his wife, pale and fading away. With one sprint we were both by her side, me holding on to her hand and him putting her head on his laps. She looked at us and tried to smile, but cried instead. We told her that we love her, and she tried to say it back, but

she died instead.

I still ed how on the first day I tried getting into books she explained what the word "Oblivion," meant and on the last day, what the word "love" truly did.

Love is the strongest emotion that humans are capable of feeling. It's what makes poets. Poets.

She was my cousin sister. Let's just call her Aria. And boy, was she precious.

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A day that we cousins weren't supposed to meet over, but I decided to go over anyway. Aria had been suffering with depression for a few years now, after...some things happened. Her husband, who's literally one of the coolest people ever and loved her more than anyone else ever could couldn't help her. I couldn't help her. Her mom couldn't. Maybe we weren't good enough. I just...I just hope we could do something.

A lot of my poems are about her. A lot of them I'm posted in here. All my mental health poems are dedicated to her. So she shaped me as a writer, in two different ways.

10. Meeting Han

On a lighter note. I love this woman. She asked me to keep it brief and I think I will. If you really wanna know how I feel about her, my bio should say enough. She motivates me into writing more love poems and she taught me to focus on both the technical and emotional aspects of the poem at the same time. So if this writer boy improved and improves even further since a month ago as a writer, she's a huge factor.

Thank you :heart:

Thank you for reading all the way through.

#review