let’s be honest: I’ve been reluctant to post on this blog.
After being away for so long, with no prior update or anything, it’s disturbingly difficult to get yourself to write a post without feeling like you’ve abandoned, perhaps even betrayed, your blog. I know I might sound like I’m exaggerating an otherwise simple situation but I don’t feel as such. I guess I’ve just disappointed myself more than anyone kind enough to be reading these sentences, and I knew all I had to do was come back here, write (I wasn’t out of ideas/topics) and click ‘publish’. But the longer you don’t do the very thing you so want (and know you should) do, the harder it gets to actually do it. At least, for me. (I might’ve confused you in which case ahh, I don’t think I can explain myself any better. apologies. :$ ) So, that’s how I ended up with no fresh content since September.
Nonetheless, I think I’m back now. I want to be back. The only way to break out of this toxic hesitance is to crush its existence, to sit down and write, without fear or uncertainty, like I have before. And, hopefully, with your support, will do again.
All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. ― Samuel Beckett
You’ll see me use the word creative so often.
For I look to find the ways in which to be uninterrupted, creatively uninterrupted.
I do not know what you may think of this constant need to go on and on and on about something I seem to have already bored you with enough. This must be tiring. Utterly repetitive. Why must I knock a door, the same door, so frequently? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with YOU for bearing this sort of loony behaviour?
The limitless mind left limited.
what is your fixation?
p.s. this post was not an excuse for sherlock gifs. i promise.
There is no comfort, no regularity in going after the spectacular again and again and again. There is always a feeling, hypnotic even, enough to making me want to strive for that spectacular something with no knowledge of what it actually is. Tiring? It can be. Like you’re always moving and walking and yes, running, to somewhere and that somewhere just seems like both a step and miles away, altogether. And you think, how am I to know? There is no guide, not even a friend. Just you and this screaming sensation, like a promise telling you you’ll reach there, that somewhere. A promise you make unknowingly and break just as soon but keep coming back to, knowing you were meant to. Believing something for a somewhere. Blinded so boldly, I proclaim it my passion.
The life of roamer, craver for the creative.
Endless effort and bliss.