So, I'm really not very good at this blogging thing.
Or maybe, I'm really not very good at finishing things I start. (Case in point, last point about 4 years ago, about the same topic HAHAHA)
Writing (way before blogging even became a thing) was my passion. I wrote short articles for the school magazines because I had stories, made up in my mind, that I wanted to tell.
Then, as puberty hit, and I became overcome with emotions, I turned to writing as an outlet to release all those pent-up feelings that I couldn't really share with anyone else. People would judge or share my secrets, but my blank Microsoft Word 1995 window would never. One of my first memories was being very upset that my favourite singer didn't win some award - so I turned off the TV, switched on the old box desktop and turned to my Word window, furiously typing a few wall of text and immediately feeling much, much better.
When blogging became a thing towards the end of secondary school, it seemed like the natural thing to do. At first, I used it as my ranting space, like a diary where I could pour out my most heartfelt feelings, and then some. I got scared at times, because I didn't know who was reading my blog, and so I started toeing the thin grey line between candidacy and censorship.
As I grew older, I realised that beyond writing to find a release, I wanted to write to remember. I wanted to write about moments that are fleeting, moments that are painful, moments that made me laugh so hard that I couldn't breath, moments where I didn't think the sun would shine again. So that one day, I can read those lessons, bring myself back to those times, and remember the people and the moments that define me.
So here I am, trying very hard again to get this off the ground, to start a treasure chest of these moments. Who's with me?
