It is time to write my weekly journal again. As I pick up my pen, my mind is a blank void. I wonder if my classmates at home feel the same, perhaps resorting to mechanical copying... but what exactly should I write about?
I feel a profound lack of desire to write. Is it because my junior high school life was too mundane, or because I failed to observe the world closely enough? Should I write book reviews? Looking at my bookshelves, it seems I have already read them all and turned their insights into notes. Should I write personal essays? I feel reluctant, fearing that I have already written too many and that my teachers might grow tired of them.
Should I just pick a topic and write another uninspired argumentative essay? While such essays might score high in exams, I feel a sense of disdain for those ornate yet hollow words.
Someone once said, "To move others, an essay must first move oneself." Yet, this seems to fail me. In my three years of junior high, I only wrote three pieces that truly moved me, but in the eyes of examiners, they barely reached 35 out of 50 points. Meanwhile, articles that failed to stir any emotion in me consistently scored 39 points or higher.
As I prepare to write, I cannot suppress this thought: isn't writing meant to be a vehicle for self-expression, rather than just a means to win scores?
In the thick pages of composition books, Qu Yuan's leap into the river feels like a repetitive performance, and Xiang Yu's suicide becomes a stale "classic scene." They jump into the river and plunge their swords repeatedly, but very few moments truly touch my heart.
That is why I have come to love "Innovative Composition" magazine. Its philosophy, "Express true feelings, be your true self," resonates with me. This is what true writing should be.
Perhaps under the pressure of exams, I will continue to write those slightly insincere, less authentic pieces. However, I will strive to write with my true self in every stroke.
