Ever since university started I have been learning how to ride a bicycle. Falling down. Getting up. Slow and steady.
I haven’t had much time to spare some words in this rusty old blog. (It’s a 100 posts old!) It’s either all over my academia or lacking sleep. And it’s been quite difficult for me to recollect and put into literature whatever I have come across to, may it be a new experience or emotion. But whatever.
Every written word is a garden. It starts as a seed, and it blossoms its way through time. As a writer, I can’t manipulate the growth of my words. I can only wait for it. But when it reaches it’s point of ripeness and I don’t harvest it, it will rot. And for a writer, such is the struggle. It’s all about the timing.
My thoughts remained preserved even during my absence. But then again, I do not know for how long. So I will write until my mind is exhausted and my fingers are numb. Because as person who talks to a virtual wind, I have been silent for quite too long.
I have gathered different stories and silly little theories; found enlightenment in the lonely gutters of introspect. I have experienced moments of happiness but is constantly eluded by joy. And I can’t wait to take it all out of me again.
SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Real Talk by Bloc Party