I'm back. Again. Oh crap.
So much to say, so little to utter. Which is it?
It actually felt a little peculiar, sitting here at this time trying to think about things to say, although over my hiatus, I’ve collected enough blogging material to last for the rest of year. I feel guilty for some reason for abandoning the blog over and over again, at some point I was actually considering calling it quit and shut the whole damn thing. And yet, such irony, I found myself sitting still for almost an hour trying to come out with something to write as my mind went totally blank on me. I've forgotten how to write. My fingers dabbing the keyboards, I was trying my best to familiarize my words. The way it used to be. The way things should be.
Six months, gosh. What have I done? I’ve been fermenting. Dust would've settled over broken pieces of glass, and I was naive enough to think that time would actually fix things. I’m pretty exhausted myself trying to pick up pieces and putting them back together to be honest.
I agree that my inconsistency, in the most fundamental way has a lot to do with me constantly being in a state of discontent about things that went on around me. Don’t get me wrong. I do believe that there are briefs moments when life seemed full of promising possibilities, and if I ever felt so optimistic about life, it would’ve been at some point in the past six months.
Much like a long trip down dreamland, where life seemed possible of endless joy and happiness. Dreams, they are free. That’s the best thing about it. It does not require truth nor beliefs, all you need is a little bit of imagination and determination, you would be living well off in wonderland. And yet the worst part about it? Dreams, they live in murky waters. It’s and assumption and desire far fetched from reality. It feeds itself on dissatisfaction in the real world. And often times it blinds us from seeing past the surface. At some point, those undefined possibilities would eventually turn into unanswered questions. Being too comfortable in some situations is often a sign of things falling apart.
Having that said, I’m contemplating over and over again whether I was being too comfortable with where I am right now. But the growing contentment would only be immolated by the abstraction of unimaginable destruction. I’ve gone through changes, good and bad, but like they say, all changes are good changes. I do believe so. And now changes have brought me down, sinking further into my own mess. Which is good, it’s good in a sense I’m checking myself back into reality rehab.
I'm back for now, though I'm very skeptical how far I would endure before things would start to bend around the corners. As far as I know, I'm broken beyond repair, and yet I find myself drawn to the idea of disjointed and fractures. The beauty to this is within the broken piece. You won't break something that is already broken. Would you?
Time. It doesn’t fix things; it dissipates little pieces of broken memories until it become too small for it to matter, small enough to slip away from our life.
So much to say, so little to utter. Which is it?
It actually felt a little peculiar, sitting here at this time trying to think about things to say, although over my hiatus, I’ve collected enough blogging material to last for the rest of year. I feel guilty for some reason for abandoning the blog over and over again, at some point I was actually considering calling it quit and shut the whole damn thing. And yet, such irony, I found myself sitting still for almost an hour trying to come out with something to write as my mind went totally blank on me. I've forgotten how to write. My fingers dabbing the keyboards, I was trying my best to familiarize my words. The way it used to be. The way things should be.
Six months, gosh. What have I done? I’ve been fermenting. Dust would've settled over broken pieces of glass, and I was naive enough to think that time would actually fix things. I’m pretty exhausted myself trying to pick up pieces and putting them back together to be honest.
I agree that my inconsistency, in the most fundamental way has a lot to do with me constantly being in a state of discontent about things that went on around me. Don’t get me wrong. I do believe that there are briefs moments when life seemed full of promising possibilities, and if I ever felt so optimistic about life, it would’ve been at some point in the past six months.
Much like a long trip down dreamland, where life seemed possible of endless joy and happiness. Dreams, they are free. That’s the best thing about it. It does not require truth nor beliefs, all you need is a little bit of imagination and determination, you would be living well off in wonderland. And yet the worst part about it? Dreams, they live in murky waters. It’s and assumption and desire far fetched from reality. It feeds itself on dissatisfaction in the real world. And often times it blinds us from seeing past the surface. At some point, those undefined possibilities would eventually turn into unanswered questions. Being too comfortable in some situations is often a sign of things falling apart.
Having that said, I’m contemplating over and over again whether I was being too comfortable with where I am right now. But the growing contentment would only be immolated by the abstraction of unimaginable destruction. I’ve gone through changes, good and bad, but like they say, all changes are good changes. I do believe so. And now changes have brought me down, sinking further into my own mess. Which is good, it’s good in a sense I’m checking myself back into reality rehab.
I'm back for now, though I'm very skeptical how far I would endure before things would start to bend around the corners. As far as I know, I'm broken beyond repair, and yet I find myself drawn to the idea of disjointed and fractures. The beauty to this is within the broken piece. You won't break something that is already broken. Would you?
Time. It doesn’t fix things; it dissipates little pieces of broken memories until it become too small for it to matter, small enough to slip away from our life.
