Even as I am writing this, I still have no clear idea what it is I’m going to write. Everything I can think of to write about seems futile and banal. These thoughts and words swirling inside my mind do not seem to make sense at all. I truly do not know what I want to write about.
However, what I do know is that I just have to write something… anything at all. It has been more than 3 months since I’ve last updated my blog. Since then it has been languishing away in a remote corner within cyberspace while I purposely avert my gaze and try my best not to think about it. But for days — weeks even — I can sense it calling out to me, gnawing slowly upon my guilty conscience until I could ignore it no longer.
“Come back to me,” it whispers. “Feed me with your thoughts. Nurture me with your words so that I may prosper once again.”
“How? How can my words and thoughts possibly do you justice?” I respond.
“How can your silence and negligence possibly do me justice?” it replies.
So I finally concede. This is why I am here once again typing these silly words on my keyboard. This is why I am here once again to reveal my foolish thoughts to the world (or more specifically the few people who read my blog).
“See, this doesn’t make any sense at all!” I cry out in a last-ditch attempt to stop writing this.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to make sense. Sometimes the only way to make sense is to stop worrying about making sense.”
“Argh! I give up! I can’t argue with you any longer. There! I just published this stupid post. Happy now?”