I’ve been trying to understand so many things in my life lately. I’ve been cleaning, throwing out, recycling and constantly refreshing my space as if that’s going to give me a new, enriching life. A turnaround of sorts.
I don’t think people even realize change is important and how change alters and refines your perspective. I don’t know if it’s all right to feel a certain way but at least now I’m sure about how I feel. I’m sure that I can actually feel something in the first place.
I’ve been writing and backspacing and I’m mostly never sure about what I intended to say initially. The haphazard and mish-mash of punctuated words, opalescent thoughts trying to look very charming and eloquent, all those qualities that are rare and that the world just has to notice and appreciate. That is not me so I will erase and write what I really feel.
I’ve reached a point where I no longer self-loath. I do not aspire to be what I’m not. I’m just content and loved and that is enough. I’m no longer ambitious or even afraid about the fact that I’m not. I’m still driven by my desire to do a lot of things and be someone good but it’s not the only thing in my world and that’s perfectly okay.
I wish I could make these words spilling out of me look as pretty as the person I love. Or sound like the voice of the person I love. These are things my words can’t do but I always try. I tried when I was heartbroken and sad to provide comfort to others like me. Now that I’m happy, I’m always shy and worried about expressing it. Why should I? Why the constant guilt about being overjoyed? These are the things my summer thoughts are made of. I’m not going out very much but I don’t have to, my mind is already in far-off lands brewing tales and experiencing things which only a strong imagination can conjure and bring to life.
The days are warm and hazy. My air is filled with love. If the weather and my heart were the only things that mattered I would say my life is almost perfect and that I’ve never desired more than that.
I didn’t think that this blog would end up like a diary entry. I didn’t even know what I wanted to write about when I started. I was filling a void in my morning, trying my best to fill that space which belonged to a person, with words. But as you can see, my distractions only last a few paragraphs before I start writing about you again.