Last night, I was having a hard time falling asleep. I was thinking of this blog and how in four months time, it had died suddenly. I felt guilty for abandoning this blog remembering that it was my decision to make this a project of some sort. Although I knew that this project is impossible to complete, I certainly had high hopes that it'll turn much better than what it is right now.
I still have a lot of stories to tell. Last night, flashes of memories came back to me all at the same time. I have stopped writing for the reason which I myself don't even know. It seemed like a vision to me and I pondered this thought all morning. It's as if I have been called for by my own senses to continue this project which I planned myself eight months ago; that is, last March, a month before I left the university, while I was at the main library for the last time, spending the morning free of any responsibility after ditching my Plant Physiology class.
All of my senses longed for me to write. I knew for sure they didn't give up on me. An idea or two would usually pop out of my head every single day of my life. Yet, it was my sad, sad mind that got on the way. My troubled mind. The control of my system. It never allowed me to go back and continue on writing. In fact, it didn't even want to me to do anything. I had just kept to myself in tortured silence for four dreadful months. Yes, it was an inner conflict. But last night, by luck, a chance had come up and that's when I realized that I was bound to write. That I will always write. Like the forbidden fruit, writing will always be the one and only desire I would not resist for the rest of my existence. Even if it means accepting a cursed life. Yes. Even a cursed life would do. In fact, a curse is what may be the only antidote to my flightless living.
That is why if my memory bids me, I shall now continue and begin my new story...
Hiatus, now banished!
I still have a lot of stories to tell. Last night, flashes of memories came back to me all at the same time. I have stopped writing for the reason which I myself don't even know. It seemed like a vision to me and I pondered this thought all morning. It's as if I have been called for by my own senses to continue this project which I planned myself eight months ago; that is, last March, a month before I left the university, while I was at the main library for the last time, spending the morning free of any responsibility after ditching my Plant Physiology class.
All of my senses longed for me to write. I knew for sure they didn't give up on me. An idea or two would usually pop out of my head every single day of my life. Yet, it was my sad, sad mind that got on the way. My troubled mind. The control of my system. It never allowed me to go back and continue on writing. In fact, it didn't even want to me to do anything. I had just kept to myself in tortured silence for four dreadful months. Yes, it was an inner conflict. But last night, by luck, a chance had come up and that's when I realized that I was bound to write. That I will always write. Like the forbidden fruit, writing will always be the one and only desire I would not resist for the rest of my existence. Even if it means accepting a cursed life. Yes. Even a cursed life would do. In fact, a curse is what may be the only antidote to my flightless living.
That is why if my memory bids me, I shall now continue and begin my new story...
Hiatus, now banished!
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