Questa è Enida

When I write, I don’t usually think or write about my writing. More often than not, I would just tell you my side of stories. The way I see them, the way I feel them and the way I live them, being me. Being this Enida.

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And perhaps the last thing I would be thinking about when I write is… whether I am writing what I’m writing from the heart, or from the mind. I don’t really know where it comes from. It is challenging enough as it is, to write from my memory.

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So the other day when someone, I can’t even remember who it was now, said, “Enida I can feel that you write from the heart,” I didn’t know how to respond. For someone who kind of almost always has the last say, I didn’t. I didn’t know what to say.

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I came home here – to my writing – and started reading some of the ‘Hurt’ entries to see if I sounded like I was writing from my heart. To be honest with you, I couldn’t tell. I still can’t. But I do have a question for you.

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When you tell the truth, can you tell if it comes from the heart?

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For the longest time, I thought I had a broken heart. Too broken to write from.

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