But where do I begin?
Tick tock goes my trusty ol' wristwatch every second, the same rhythm tapping at my keyboard makes that I wish I hear but don't. But haven't, for quite some time. I have only the faintest memory of it. That sound is but a ghost that haunts me in my sleep and wake. I miss writing. I do. I wish I'd write again and more often.
Friends would hear me go on and on about getting back to it, back to when it was as easy as breathing and simply living, me writing for myself. But when I'm faced with that blank white screen, I freeze. It's both exciting and terrifying. Exciting, because after a year and a half or so of being gone on this li'l space o' mine, there are just so many amazing stories to tell—so much backlogs to catch up on and so much other new experiences to share, too! It's overwhelming. And terrifying, because after being gone for so long,...uhm, how do you do this again? Again, it's overwhelming.
But here I am, trying. Hitting one letter after another, hoping it would string into words, into sentences, into paragraphs, with the right thoughts and feelings behind them still intact...hoping it would make sense. Hoping I could still, I would still make sense.
2016 is going to be my year, I claimed it as tiring yet fulfilling 2015 came to a close. From then on, I continued to dream, even bigger than ever. As luck may have had it, we're halfway through and I find myself being distracted, losing focus on what I planned to achieve, filled with self-doubt and an unfortunate oversupply of laziness. I need to snap out of it. I
am snapping out of it.
This is my one shot, my one chance. I have to make the most of it. There's no turning back. It's time to keep writing and keep getting better. There is a lot of change, sure, but it's nothing I can't adapt to. I'm caught at a transition period, and here, at this point, hopefully, I re-write my life.
