About Rasham Writes

About Rasham Writes;

The words on these pages represent my journey as I navigate my way through this dimension of existence. I write as the inspiration comes, usually in public places with the use of my cellular device; I slip into the process of documenting my thoughts while in the presence of the very thing about which I am writing.

In writing I am allowed to be myself, though I find that in reading what I have previously written what I associate with ‘myself’ is in fact constantly changing. This, I believe, is the beauty of writing. Like a photo album the words are imprints of  a writer past, evidence of the impermanent nature of our experiences, and cause to believe in the relatedness of all life forces.

I started writing at the age of 9, when at a slumber party I was introduced to the idea of keeping a journal. I still remember what it felt like to hold my first book in my arms; it was like being the bearer of the greatest truth, sanctioned as worthy of keeping the most profound secret. I still feel this way, though in reality the truths and secrets are of me; they are personal, intimate, yet every time I trace my energies outward and then reel them inward in preparation to write I feel an overwhelming sense of elation, as though all my problems fade away in knowing that there is still one person in this world that cares enough to listen, and that is myself through the act of writing.

It is a privilege that I have years of pages upon which I have cried many tears and wept words through a symphony of poetry and prose. Ex-boyfriends, dying pets, schoolhouse blues; all of these usual observations have been explored, signed and dated. In reading my journals, I can say that what has been my life thus far is not so unusual; I was blessed in so many ways.

It wasn’t until I failed to recognize my freedom of expression that confusion consumed me, and in that confusion every form of art that had formerly sustained my heart whimpered away, and I became full of anger and grief, selfish, addicted to addiction and ready for the darkest challenge despite the consequences and in complete denial of the pain.

For the majority of these trials I hid from paper and pen. Writing is a form of confession, and I was too ashamed most days to consider honesty, especially with myself.

A span of 7 years separates my old journal from my new one, though they are so similar in so many ways. The content has changed as I have grown, but the voice is the same; the 9 year old girl reads the same as the one who writes on her 27th birthday. The missing space in between was the inevitable effect of my childhood existence as much as it is the cause of my existence now. The lack of entries for those 7 years is symbolic of my refusal of myself, an escape, to speak plainly, from reality. I took a trip to someplace different, I roamed around for a while and 7 years later I came back.

Rasham Writes is merely an internet refuge for my tireless and creative mind. I am not a writer; I am a person who understands the value of writing. I have no intentions for my contributions; I just release it, I exhale it out there. Those who have most served as inspiration to me are those who were only being themselves, and by virtue of their independence and will to survive in untraditional ways inspired others to do the same.

It is to them, and to all who loved me during those times when I could hardly stand to love myself that my words are devoted. It is to those who read my words with openness and acceptance that I also say thank you, thank you, thank you.

Love,

Rasham Writes