Old souls
The last time I wrote here was when I was twenty. I always come back here to write in the eves of my life. Forks in the road. I wonder if anyone ever writes here anymore, more so read any of the entries that come up on the feed. Old online friends have drifted away to more...succinct forms of public disclosures. Their lives have become more summarized on a live feed. On the up side, it's a lot easier to keep track. But then again, where's the depth? I miss old friendships. Or at least how they used to be.
Anyway, this space. I'd like to think of this as a semi-private space now. Although I am writing for all to read, I usually address this to myself. I sometimes ask myself what the point is of writing my most private thoughts here... To vent, maybe? And very out of the way.
Reading back two years and of course all the years that I've omitted for all intents and purposes, there's something eerie about the retrospective. Some people prefer to look at old photos. I like to read what I wrote. There are times that I am overcome by disappointment and regret that I can't help but purge them. Then, a second thought occurs that makes me anxious about what I have just done. Shocked that it evoked in me in to such a violent frenzy, like I've betrayed myself with my writing.
I guess I am visiting my past every time I write here, yet I cannot help but feel like I am staring at a mirror and noticing my wrinkles. The story that is my life now is connected to the stories that once had been. Time is seamless, as if past, present and future are on a single thread. What is inevitable is the fact that we cannot change the impact of events when they have occurred.
At twenty-two, I am so thirsty for wisdom. It startles me, the fact that I am so young and that I am barely starting out my life. How come I feel so fatigued?
I always remind myself to smile more and be nice to people. Someone once advised me to never be the bearer of bad news because it's not nice and people will remember you for it. Maybe it's her way of saying to pretend to be nice to people. Either way, I see why this does make sense and is practical. Who wants to hear any bad news anyway? More so, from your own mouth?
Really, what I wanted to say: I am at this point in time when I feel as if I am about to open up my heart. Yet all the signs are telling me not to. My experiences show that it has always led to disappointment, regret and failure. So much love and so much devotion from my end did not work out for me. I always end up feeling taken for granted. Every. Single. Time. Perhaps I am the factor in all of this. Perhaps I am the one doing something wrong.
And so I stop myself. I bite my tongue. I withhold my sighs.
I write it down and hope that it will just vanish.
Anyway, this space. I'd like to think of this as a semi-private space now. Although I am writing for all to read, I usually address this to myself. I sometimes ask myself what the point is of writing my most private thoughts here... To vent, maybe? And very out of the way.
Reading back two years and of course all the years that I've omitted for all intents and purposes, there's something eerie about the retrospective. Some people prefer to look at old photos. I like to read what I wrote. There are times that I am overcome by disappointment and regret that I can't help but purge them. Then, a second thought occurs that makes me anxious about what I have just done. Shocked that it evoked in me in to such a violent frenzy, like I've betrayed myself with my writing.
I guess I am visiting my past every time I write here, yet I cannot help but feel like I am staring at a mirror and noticing my wrinkles. The story that is my life now is connected to the stories that once had been. Time is seamless, as if past, present and future are on a single thread. What is inevitable is the fact that we cannot change the impact of events when they have occurred.
At twenty-two, I am so thirsty for wisdom. It startles me, the fact that I am so young and that I am barely starting out my life. How come I feel so fatigued?
I always remind myself to smile more and be nice to people. Someone once advised me to never be the bearer of bad news because it's not nice and people will remember you for it. Maybe it's her way of saying to pretend to be nice to people. Either way, I see why this does make sense and is practical. Who wants to hear any bad news anyway? More so, from your own mouth?
Really, what I wanted to say: I am at this point in time when I feel as if I am about to open up my heart. Yet all the signs are telling me not to. My experiences show that it has always led to disappointment, regret and failure. So much love and so much devotion from my end did not work out for me. I always end up feeling taken for granted. Every. Single. Time. Perhaps I am the factor in all of this. Perhaps I am the one doing something wrong.
And so I stop myself. I bite my tongue. I withhold my sighs.
I write it down and hope that it will just vanish.