For the past few months, I have been writing some sort of apology or coming back or wake up call post to rope myself back into the blogging whirlpool I so much love. But the harder I try, the further it moves and futile it feels. I was and am even scared of the thought that I might have lost my love for the words. Today, I realized I didn’t. If you want to dwell for no reason further into my post, please do so. Be warned, it’s just expression of my thoughts.
When I started blogging, I was free to say the least. I had no responsibilities and goals. My 24 hours were in my complete control. I cut through every post in my sight and wrote every weird thought occurred in my mind and I conversed with almost everyone I met (that was the most fun part.)
Ever since “some things” happened in my life, no matter how much I try, I couldn’t get that sweet habit back. It always slips my memory or fingers. I also realized it’s not just about interest (even though I admit, I’m slipping on that department) I simply don’t have enough time. The new goals and new works and responsibilities add only more stress which leads me unable and unfit to do any of those rather than all of them. Then I realized, This is the end.
In no way, this is my last post, I love blogging and I still will and I can learn so much more from here. It’s just blogging isn’t what it was to me anymore. I simply couldn’t or can’t spend all time (few hours after work) on reading all the posts. Not only it’s impractical and impossible, it’s meaningless if I don’t spend enough time to enjoy all of your beautiful words (I say this with mind how breathtaking and stunning many people’s writing here can be) So what am I going to do?
I have always wanted to be a writer. Maybe not consciously. I have wanted to be a scientist, a civil servant, a doctor and a superhero (especially a Spiderman) like all kids, but I never have ever took a single step towards those goals. But I have been always writing (in a loose concept), from random facts, poems, moral stories, the episodes of Japanese power rangers (they were better btw!) to adaptations of Spiderman movies. But I never for once thought, this could be my passion because I was too deep in love with it than to realize anything.
Why am I telling you a random fact about my childhood? Only an year ago I realized, As far as the things I did and the emotions I felt, writing is what makes sense to me most! A sense of belonging to this world and my responsibility in it. I’m supposed to write! I finally understood how dancers feel about dancing, singers about singing and every damn people out their who is chasing something over their head against everything. I was finally happy to have something to chase. That left me most hurt when I procrastinated blogging. Because for me blogging was writing. Today I realized I was wrong.
No offense to people here, blogging is an wonderful activity, but it wasn’t my goal or the end point of my journey. I always thought I would get stuck in it’s beauty and comfort and never pass this phase. But it was over before I know, now I have nowhere to go except forward.
Which is Writing. It’s kinda obvious at this stage. But I’m ashamed to say it sometimes, because to become something, you have to dedicate every ounce of your effort to it (at least most of the times) Eventhough it’s not practical, I wasn’t doing enough to not feel guilty. Mostly because I kept comparing my performance to my past blogging activity quantitatively. I always felt down. I can maybe never read that many post in a day, ever maybe! But I can write a complete book, finish my novellas before I forget how they feel.
Before I can do that, I want to remember that I shouldn’t be sad about leaving blogging (relatively) but just thankful for the lessons it taught me. So thank you everyone.
I will be here, regularly, just not frequently.