From Thoughts to Words: My Journey of Writing More Than Ever

Lately, I have been writing more than ever. It’s not just a passing urge, it’s an undeniable need as if my thoughts are too restless to stay inside my head. Every moment, big or small, feels like a story waiting to be told. Whether it’s a fleeting emotion, an unexpected encounter, or a moment of reflection, I reach for words to capture it all.

Maybe this desire has always been in me, but now, I feel the urgency to write more deeply, more frequently, and more freely.

Writing through every experience; My recent trip was filled with moments that demanded to be written about experiences so vivid they lingered in my mind long after they passed.

There was the night music festival at Pattaya Beach, a whirlwind of sound and energy. The music pulsed through the crowd, the ocean breeze mixed with neon lights, and for a few hours, nothing else mattered. I danced, I laughed, I let go. It was one of those nights that felt infinite, where the world blurred into a beautiful, chaotic rhythm. And when it was over, I knew I had to write about it, to relive it, to hold onto the feeling just a little longer.

Then, in Bangkok, there was the cruise dinner, the city glowing in the distance. The air was warm, the lights reflecting on the water, the food indulgent. It was peaceful yet alive, a contrast that felt poetic. I sat there, soaking it in, feeling both present and distant at the same time. That kind of feeling deserves to be written about.

Of course, there was also that shopping trip, the one where I shamelessly flirted with the cute cashier guy at Uniqlo. Hours flew by as we exchanged smiles, playful remarks, and stolen glances. It was lighthearted, and exciting, the kind of moment that makes you feel young and alive. And what’s the point of a good flirtation if not to immortalize it in words later?

But not everything was just fun and adventure. I also went through intensive training, mentally and physically demanding, pushing me beyond my limits. The exhaustion, the discipline, the small victories, it was a reminder of resilience, of how much I could endure. Even in the toughest moments, I found myself wanting to write about it. Because challenges shape us as much as joy does, and both deserve space on the page.

And then there was my 39th birthday, a moment of reflection and celebration. Another year older, another chapter added to my story. Instead of worrying about time slipping away, I embraced the love around me. Whether it was the thoughtful messages, the laughter-filled moments, or the quiet gratitude that settled in my heart, I knew this was a day worth remembering. Birthdays have a way of making us pause, of forcing us to acknowledge not just where we’ve been but where we’re going. And so, I wrote about it. About the lessons learned, the desires still lingering, and the quiet realization that life is, and always will be, unfolding.

A Constant Circle of Love; Beyond the experiences and the places I have been, there is something even more precious, my circle of love. The unwavering presence of my female friends, who stand by me through everything, offering laughter, support, and companionship. They are the kind of friendships that don’t waver, the kind that make life’s journey feel a little lighter.

And then there’s my family; their wisdom, their guidance, their quiet way of reminding me that I am never alone. Their words, even when unspoken, shape me, ground me, and give me the strength to move forward. Love doesn’t always have to be loud; sometimes, it’s just knowing that someone is there, always, without conditions.

The Struggles that Linger; Despite all these experiences, some things still feel out of reach. I used to love my morning walks—the way the air felt cooler before the sun fully rose, the peace of watching the world slowly wake up. But these days, no matter how much I tell myself to get up, I just don’t. The alarm rings, and instead of stepping outside, I find myself hitting snooze, convincing myself that I’ll start again tomorrow. But “tomorrow” keeps slipping away.

And then, there’s my long break from reading. I used to lose myself in books for hours, devouring stories that transported me to different worlds. But now? I haven’t touched a book in weeks—maybe even months. It’s not that I don’t want to. Every time I look at my bookshelf, I feel a pang of guilt, as if my books are waiting for me to return. But somehow, the habit just hasn’t returned. Instead, I write. Maybe because, for now, I need to create rather than consume.

A Constant Source of Love; Through all of this, one presence remains constant; Precious. My sweet, affectionate little girl, my shadow, my source of endless love. No matter what kind of day I’m having, she’s always there. When I struggle to wake up in the morning, she curls up beside me, pressing her tiny body against mine as if to say, It’s okay, stay a little longer. When I’m deep in thought, lost in my writing, she hops onto my lap, gently reminding me that I am loved; without conditions, without expectations.

She has a way of grounding me. She doesn’t care whether I go for my morning walk or whether I finish a book. She doesn’t judge my struggles or my shifting routines. She just loves—purely, effortlessly. And in return, I love her with everything I have. Writing about her, about our quiet moments together, feels like second nature, as natural as breathing.

Embracing This Chapter; So here I am, writing more than ever. Whether it’s about my travels, my friendships, my struggles, or the deep love I share with Precious, the words keep coming. Even when my routines slip, when I don’t wake up early, or when my books remain untouched, writing remains.

Maybe this is just a phase, or maybe it’s the start of something bigger. Either way, I am embracing it. I am letting the words flow, letting them guide me. And as long as I have stories to tell, I know I’ll keep writing; one thought, one memory, one feeling at a time.