I lost count but all I know is that I’ve been gone too long.
I mean, seriously, I missed writing/blogging/babbling so much. There were various times I forced myself to actually wordify (read: verbalize) something but I just can’t. It’s either I end up with a blank page or an unfinished thing.
Before I graduated college, I wrote stuffs… non-stop. I felt like a factory of write-ups and articles and stuff and then I woke up and poof! I lost it.
I nearly ran for my life. No, yeah, that was exaggerated but I was scared to not be able to write again. Aside from my enormous singing talent (read: kidding), the only thing I have that I could call my God-given talent is my ability to passionately write about something and make it significant. To write is one thing but to get your message across people and to make them feel what you actually feel is something I had always wanted to do. So, when I kind of lost it, I kinda freaked out. Then, I gave up.
I stopped pushing myself to write again. I even loathed writing only that it was too ironic because my job requires writing a lot (read: copy writer). Well, to explain that, let’s just say, my job doesn’t require feelings – the stuff that I’m used to writing about requires a lot of those. So, there’s a difference between my job and my gift. To stay on the good track with my job, I only need to be good in grammar and construction and maybe a little creativity. But with the things I used to write about, it required knowledge about life and loads of feelings, experiences and other things that you don’t learn inside the secluded four-corners of an office.
I stopped asking questions. I stopped seeking for answers. I stopped observing. I stopped looking at things. For once in my life I had experienced not having a life. And it sucked. BIG TIME.
It sucked so bad that when I faced the mirror I told myself, get a life, bitch. But that’s the farthest I’ve gone. I only told myself to get a life but never really did anything to actually get one.
Good thing about the concept getting tired, I got tired eventually. I got tired of not being able to do the one thing I have always loved to do. I got tired of not having a life because it sucked. And I got tired of everything that sucks, so yeah. I knew I had to move forward.
Some might think I’m exaggerating about losing my will to write. But you probably won’t ever understand unless you have experienced losing something that makes you feel alive. It’s like breaking up only you don’t get to break up with someone else – you break up with yourself; you break up with the part of yourself that you love and you know you’ll never be the same again. It’s like losing a part of you and your whole life will never be complete. Yeah, it’s like that for me.
Lately, I have missed it. I missed writing so badly that I needed some kind of an event to push me and thankfully, October 1, 2011 did it for me. Something happened and while I was watching it unfold in front of me, my thoughts came rushing like… like water from top of the cliff or valley or something that would make up a waterfall.
To be honest, it made me so happy. It made me so happy that recalling about it right now made my eyes tear up a bit. Oh well, I call myself dramatic for a reason.
But yeah, I thought I was going to hell but it was full so I had to come back. I had to come back because maybe, even Satan agreed that I still need to write a lot of stuff. I just hope I’d never have to go back on that same old slump. It sucks, really.