My parents ask me why the hell I stay too long in front of the computer, typing away in pages like this, when I have other papers to do for school. Well, I guess it's about letting out whatever there is to let out. To let go of words I dare not speak to people. To just let out. And maybe to let go. Even if it takes away at least 15 minutes of my life.
My sisters ask why I keep on blogging here when there are, at most, 2 people who read each of my blog posts after all. Well, I'd like them to know that while others may do it to please people, to inform them, or just to brag, well, I blog for the sake of me. Not to please. Not to inform. Just to let it out. Hopefully, to let it go. Or, in some cases, to hold on to it.
I ask myself why I keep on blogging when I can just let everything out through talking to my best friend or to my sisters. Well, there is something concrete, if I may put it that way, about words that are written down for all the world to see, instead of just telling it to someone. I am not sure. But putting it down on paper, or well, in this case, putting it up on this blog, makes things, ideas, and emotions, less vague, more "tangible", and relatively more comprehensible--to me, that is. Maybe it's because ,when I write these things, I can organize them inside me even more. Sometimes talking leads me to different conclusions and I end up contradicting myself. Well, here, that happens less of the time. Haha.
O well. Maybe it's this. By putting words here, what is very intangible and fleeting becomes concrete, even in just a period, or even just a moment. By putting down everything here, they become more engraved in my memory. And, if ever I forget and they become, once again, intangibles, I could remember, take them back, review, look back. I do not know.
These lines appear in my favorite book:
And then by the end of that part/ chapter/ poem/ essay...
Some of these things may support what I've written earlier, some may negate it. But who cares? After all, only I could fully understand this. Unless you'd borrow my brain for a while. Well, this is self-centered--and biased!--again. Haha. Why, in your opinion, do I write? And, you, why do you write?
My sisters ask why I keep on blogging here when there are, at most, 2 people who read each of my blog posts after all. Well, I'd like them to know that while others may do it to please people, to inform them, or just to brag, well, I blog for the sake of me. Not to please. Not to inform. Just to let it out. Hopefully, to let it go. Or, in some cases, to hold on to it.
I ask myself why I keep on blogging when I can just let everything out through talking to my best friend or to my sisters. Well, there is something concrete, if I may put it that way, about words that are written down for all the world to see, instead of just telling it to someone. I am not sure. But putting it down on paper, or well, in this case, putting it up on this blog, makes things, ideas, and emotions, less vague, more "tangible", and relatively more comprehensible--to me, that is. Maybe it's because ,when I write these things, I can organize them inside me even more. Sometimes talking leads me to different conclusions and I end up contradicting myself. Well, here, that happens less of the time. Haha.
O well. Maybe it's this. By putting words here, what is very intangible and fleeting becomes concrete, even in just a period, or even just a moment. By putting down everything here, they become more engraved in my memory. And, if ever I forget and they become, once again, intangibles, I could remember, take them back, review, look back. I do not know.
These lines appear in my favorite book:
"It is always raining in my head. The closest thing I have to order is the way the lines are set on pages. But even those I disregard...The words just start to fall there. And I feel some satisfaction from that. I've nver written for myself. And I've never written for anyone else. I write for the release of it. For finding out what will be there when I am done."
And then by the end of that part/ chapter/ poem/ essay...
"We are so used to releasing words. We don't know what to do with them if they stay... I'm talking about what happens when they stay with us. No matter how many times we let them go, they come back. The words that matter always stay."
Some of these things may support what I've written earlier, some may negate it. But who cares? After all, only I could fully understand this. Unless you'd borrow my brain for a while. Well, this is self-centered--and biased!--again. Haha. Why, in your opinion, do I write? And, you, why do you write?
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