My "I want to write something" impulse, despite "having nothing in particular to write"

I had known for a while that things like "journaling" and "morning pages" were recommended. It is the act of writing down the thoughts swirling in your head and the emotions you are holding onto onto paper, without worrying about the correctness of the writing or the eyes of others. Looking back, even before these became recognized as methods in society, whenever I felt a sense of unease building up inside my chest, I would fill notebooks with dense text.

I feel like those were mostly words of self-condemnation regarding my own pathetic nature, shame, cowardice, and the fact that I was smoldering without being able to take action, or perhaps they were whiny complaints like a tragic heroine. I never had any intention of re-reading them, and whenever I finished a notebook, I would always throw it in the trash without any hesitation. But thinking about it now, I believe the sentences where I blamed myself were a bit off from my true feelings. It is true that back then, I couldn't help but hate myself, and I thought I was empty. But even when I was writing bad things about myself in those notebooks, I think I was avoiding expressing my true feelings, even in writing that no one else would ever see. I was living while worrying about the eyes of others. I was a "good girl" through and through.

I didn't want to be disliked by people, I worried about what others thought of me, and I couldn't even say half of what I wanted to say. I was always reading the faces of my parents and the people around me, and I acted while wearing the mask of an honor student. As a result, I no longer knew what I wanted to do or how I wanted to live. Because I wasn't facing myself with my true feelings in that state, I think that even when I was "journaling" (though I didn't know it was a method back then), it didn't bring about any good effects.

Apart from "journaling," I had a vague longing for a career as a writer, and I also wrote things like fragments of stories in my notebook. There was a time when I dreamed of becoming a novelist on the first computer I bought after saving up 500-yen coins. But I couldn't write. I spent more time staring at the white computer screen than typing on the keyboard.
Perhaps as a reaction to that, I was still able to write down my thoughts without thinking, just as before. However, that work also gradually became empty. I grew tired of writing nothing but boring, whiny complaints that went in circles forever, and gradually I distanced myself from writing.

But I want to write something.

Or rather, "I want to let it out" might be closer. Whether it was drawing pictures or singing, I just wanted to express myself. I wanted to let something out toward the outside world. But what is that "thing I want to let out"? If I were to write, what would it be about?
I had nothing I strongly wanted to convey to anyone—no burning anger, no trembling excitement or joy, no sense of loss that would make me unable to stand. That is why I thought I only had a longing for the position of a creator like a "writer," and that I didn't purely want to write things. Besides, for me, writing was sometimes "painful," and even now, it is hard to get started before I write. There was no way I could apply the catchphrase "living by doing what you love" to myself. That is why, even when I heard the voice saying "I want to write something" or "I want to express myself," I started pretending not to hear it. It's troublesome, painful, and unrewarding.

So, something I had been thinking about for a while. Huh? Doesn't this resemble something? It's troublesome, painful, and unrewarding... but I love it. Yes, it's like a romantic relationship. It might be a bit off, but the feeling of "I have nothing in particular to write" but "I want to write something" is like saying you love something without being able to say in a word why you love it, but you just do.
And then, a comic essay I encountered at a bookstore I stopped by after a walk today. There was an episode there that compared "things you love" to romantic relationships in the same way, and I felt a little happy thinking that my way of thinking wasn't off the mark.

Even within the sweet sound of "romantic relationship," there is plenty of pain, such as jealousy, the agony of not having your feelings conveyed, and the loneliness of missing each other. But that is because you "love" them. And you want to know them, you make an effort to be liked, and you don't neglect to take diligent action. Even if you think it's troublesome, it's because you have a feeling of love that outweighs that.
So, it turns out that being troublesome and feeling so painful that you writhe in agony are normal things. The "I don't know why, but I love it" in a romantic relationship feels even stronger than "because they are diligent and kind" or "because they love me so much."

And so, I felt that my "I want to write something" impulse, despite "having nothing in particular to write," was not something to be discarded.