I’ve always wondered–until now, actually–why, when I gave my blog a lift, I decided to save this old URL and make a new blog out of it which I labeled my “personal blog”. Truth be told, I haven’t really thought it through that I was going to make a personal blog, either–since I have a tumblr blog, which, in all honesty, I could convert into a personal account whenever I wanted to. Maybe it’s because I’ve been through some stuff using this URL, or maybe it’s for something else. I suppose what there is to blame is my thing to make impulse decisions and act upon them before they vanished in my mind. But today, I think I’m starting to slowly unravel the veil of mystery surrounding the reason as to why I really made this URL into a personal blog: to lash out.
Bullshit, right? Considering I keep a lot of notebooks with barely anything in them and a typewriter, which I could possibly use to type on and express myself freely on instead of broadcasting my very personal thoughts on the interwebs with chances of the whole world reading it. I am asked myself that question the moment I started typing it out. But why, really? I don’t know. Maybe it’s something about the sounds the keyboard make whenever I press some keys that are then converted into letters that will form the words, sentences and paragraphs that would express how I’m feeling. Maybe it’s the sight of the empty typing space, with me seeing it getting filled out with lots and lots of letters that have come together to convey a message. Or maybe it’s just the thought of lashing out itself. The thought of me being able to write freely, confessing myself to people I may or may not know and letting them see the things that round about in my head, the thoughts that I will never be able to put to coherence. Stupid. Stupid how elders tell us not to talk to strangers, but here we are. Whining about our very worlds to people we know exactly nothing about. Or maybe there just is something about typing one’s feelings down in a little piece of technology. This is one of those times when I truly, truly remind myself about the goodness of writing. A lot of writers write because the idea of putting their thoughts into words that others can see is like a release. Like putting a part of your heart and brain into the hands of others. Not really trusting, but hoping that someone will understand enough to care and try to learn more about what the writer’s got to say. Funny, how writing is literally like sharing your heart and soul with someone through words, but at the same time, you use these words to hide or run away from the things the writer has always dreaded.
Get this: not because I call this a “personal” blog, doesn’t mean that I’ll tell the world online community about the detailed things in my life. I’m not so much of a dimwit. I know my limitations. This is called a personal blog for several reasons I might not be able to pinpoint right now or maybe ever, but one is clear: this just might be the official place where I place the words I could not say. Where I could type them out and publish it, hoping that it will find its way with the million other thoughts of possibly million other people who had decided to thrust their rage in the flow of letters and words and paragraphs. Thinking of it as a release, a way to freed the ever growing amount of darkness and hollowness that had settled in their hearts and minds.
I surely am going to go through these words so much more in the future [since their obviously, evidently shown in my blog]–maybe even want to slap myself across the face for being such an emotional wreck, but I hope that those feelings that I had been feeling when I wrote these things vanished after clicking the “publish” button. Maybe not for good, but hopefully, they helped. And hopefully, they will still continue to help.