I turn on my “deep focus study” playlist and open my laptop. The soft mumbles and whispers of other college students resonate around me as my keyboard monotonously types on. I listen to the soft sounds of elevator music. I breathe in and exhale slowly, as my words dance around the page, desperately trying to make the images in my head into coherent sentences. I watch as the page gets fuller the more I type. The more I type, the more invested I get. I ignore the my hands cramping up. At one point I am holding my breath, afraid that if I let it out too fast, it will blow away all of my hard work and energy.

The library is my favorite place to write. I go to the third floor, sit at a place near the window and begin my favorite activity: writing.

Writing is an escape. It allows my busy mind to relax and let loose, as anything and everything that pops into it gets thrown down on paper. I jot down things to feel a fraction of my emotions go away, to either be shared or saved for later. I scribble things down in the back of my notebooks, to remember a phrase or sentence that can be added to a story I created the day before. I type sentences into my phone to begin new journeys in a span of seconds.

I write for pleasure. I write to experience love, heartbreak, excitement, joy and sorrow and a million other sentiments all at the same time. It gives me a chance to calm down and focus on something that brings me so much happiness.

It’s a way to occupy my mind. It’s similar to a mental health break when I am in control of the story. I understand that not everything is under my surveillance and when life happens, it can either be uplifting or hit you in the face like a truck. But when I write, I know when things will happen with perfect timing and poise.

For the first time, I am enjoying writing. This passion didn’t come easily at first. I had to really convince myself that this was a good thing. It began slowly. I would write down three things I remembered from the day, and then copy them down in a journal. My old diaries were filled with lists and cute stories that I would laugh at now. But they were the beginning of something I can never seem to stop doing now.