I noticed that I'm only propelled to write when I'm unhappy, sad or desolate - basically whenever my heart is burdened by some of what life has thrown at me. That's one of the main reasons why I haven't been writing on here often in the recent years. I want to be remembered as this fresh-spirited, witty and uncomplicated narrator. But it's so hard to write about the jolly things in life when my mind is tangled up so much in a web of worries. I don't want sappy tales of my life floating about in the world wide web long after I'm gone. And yet, I find myself most comfortable indulging in unhappiness. Or rather it's easier to relate to conflicts, physical pain and loss than to all the other things that I should be happy about. Does that make any sense to you? Or is this mid-life crisis? Turned a year older about a month ago, and got a visit from this old friend.
a blog about small things with big value