Here I am again, sitting at the balcony with my laptop.
Six months since this blog took on a darker new cover, and it has been in the dark ever since. Alas readers, I had lost the will to write.
Junior college life has curious effects on people. On the outside, everybody looks nothing but happy. New friends come in abundance. Hitting the 18 barrier opened new doors. The mix of school stress and parental pressure created a kind of lunacy that unlocked a new level of elation in us to cope with it.
But on the inside, it's a whole different story. With new joys came new pains. The stress came down like a solid hammer. It makes people do things that are unbecoming of them. 2007 was a great year to be a sophomore. Through all its madness some things got lost. Like my will to write it all down. My inspiration for great tales. My humanity...
Back when I used to write short stories and poems, it felt like I was spilling my heart out. True, they were never personal, but each of them was sowed from a fragment of my heart that bloomed out into a piece of literature. It was never me to be emotionally expressive, but to see a piece of work that you write is like having a daemon, or to wear your heart on the outside to be clearly read. For once, it felt truly human.
That was then. Everbody knows that it is futile to brood about the past. So I am picking up where I left and starting off again. As I sit here dropping advice to freshman junior college juniors, I am myself facing the uncertainty of enlistment. Out of the certainty of turmoil and into the turmoil of uncertainty, as how Khaled Hosseini would have put it.
After fighting the emotional numbness, I finally got myself to pick up the laptop and pen down some thoughts at the balcony again. Actually, much is also due to the books I've been reading. Kudos to Neil Humphreys and Khaled Hussaini for their inspiring work. Once again, I take up the oath to flesh out my thoughts, to hopefully regain the inspiration to spin wonderfully morbid tales and distorted poems.
I can't help to notice that my life and writing take turns being twisted and mundane. Only one way to find out.
