Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Starting Over
There is a heavy feeling I’ve been carrying around since yesterday. I couldn’t pin point what started it. Work got cancelled the other day so I doubt if this is due to work exhaustion. Relationships are also smooth sailing, not one disagreement with love ones. Yet, I am sad. Not in a ‘I’m sad I will project my frustration to everyone else’ kind of sad. Just sad.
Usually a few good hours of reading can uplift my spirit. I tried that trick last night. Didn’t work one bit. After a couple of flips, I returned the book in my bedside table, turned the TV on and stared at it blankly until I fell asleep.
Other than reading, writing cures me. And that explains this entry.
I browsed through my previous entries and got a bit disappointed with what I had been writing here. Travel stories, date nights, a few personal but limited thoughts. This used to be my secret outlet. (Although secret may not be a very fitting term.) This used to be what Facebook and Twitter is to everyone else, nowadays. By the way, just to give my two cents worth, I hate how people say everyone has a perfect life if you look into their Facebook or Twitter or any of these social networking sites. They throw such judgment out there as if it similar to hypocrisy. I say it isn’t hypocrisy; it is being proper. It is disrespectful to use as a status how much you hate your parents or how your boyfriend lied to your face or how insecure you are with every little imperfection. It is disrespectful to you, to the other party and to your ‘friends’ who would have it on their feeds.
But this blog is different. There is no feed. I am not shoving my words into your face. You intentionally typed my URL in that gateway to the WWW, so you have to bear with me. You have to bear with my honesty.
Form this entry onwards, I am permitting myself to be sincere, not just about my thoughts, but more importantly, about my feelings- again. I will write as if nobody’s reading. And if that actually happens, I would be ok with it. Besides, I write for the sake of having written, not for the sake of being read.
Usually a few good hours of reading can uplift my spirit. I tried that trick last night. Didn’t work one bit. After a couple of flips, I returned the book in my bedside table, turned the TV on and stared at it blankly until I fell asleep.
Other than reading, writing cures me. And that explains this entry.
I browsed through my previous entries and got a bit disappointed with what I had been writing here. Travel stories, date nights, a few personal but limited thoughts. This used to be my secret outlet. (Although secret may not be a very fitting term.) This used to be what Facebook and Twitter is to everyone else, nowadays. By the way, just to give my two cents worth, I hate how people say everyone has a perfect life if you look into their Facebook or Twitter or any of these social networking sites. They throw such judgment out there as if it similar to hypocrisy. I say it isn’t hypocrisy; it is being proper. It is disrespectful to use as a status how much you hate your parents or how your boyfriend lied to your face or how insecure you are with every little imperfection. It is disrespectful to you, to the other party and to your ‘friends’ who would have it on their feeds.
But this blog is different. There is no feed. I am not shoving my words into your face. You intentionally typed my URL in that gateway to the WWW, so you have to bear with me. You have to bear with my honesty.
Form this entry onwards, I am permitting myself to be sincere, not just about my thoughts, but more importantly, about my feelings- again. I will write as if nobody’s reading. And if that actually happens, I would be ok with it. Besides, I write for the sake of having written, not for the sake of being read.
# posted by Liana : 7:57 PM
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