I have been recording and writing about myself and my experiences since blogging became a thing back in 2006. The blogspot is still alive till this day and I am pretty proud of myself for maintaining it for so long. Sometimes I write at lengths about what was on my mind, while most of the time I use it as an archive for my life snippets. I enjoy recording my life in this manner, as it brings joy to see what were my adventures and to cherish those moments I took time to record. On the other hand, there is another type of writing that I also do, more serious, heavier but with much less frequency.
Writing, with a pen on paper, is a good exercise, for me to see and to reflect, to listen to myself. I rarely write, and when I do, it is because I am troubled and need an avenue to sort out my thoughts.
The motion of the pen and paper paces the thoughts, especially useful when the mind is troubled, where thoughts are repeating and fleeting in all directions. When words are penned down, it is not perfect sometimes, so seeing the cancellation, addition or replacement of a word, actually signifies deeper meanings. It is unlike typing, where the words can be erased and forgotten. The imperfect choice of words do have meaning. The deliberation of words is part of that process to be true to myself and to know if I am trying to hide. Such considerations when writing with a pen also factors in the element of time, which can bring about ebb and flow, where the flow of words can be rapid, yet at times stifled.
There is nothing to hide when I write for myself. The rawest of thoughts and feelings are put into a physical form, thus a very special meaning for those privileged to read. If i am afraid to say, at least I have written.
Will you want to see what I have written?
This question is not about the my content, but you. Why do you desire to know?
Maybe I will hear a perfect answer to that question from a special someone, someday.