One must come to that moment when an activity must come to an end, however temporarily. And for my case inaction must now come to an end.
I have not been breathing for a long time; having not able to write anything except for a few lines I have tried to scribble in my free times. I miss my extensive scribbles of drafts, late night writings and readings. Yes, I have attempted to dislodge my self-realized ‘writer’s block’ (see that particularly entry here) but it seems that I still have not exerted much effort to triumph over it. Events—both domestic and relational—have severely affected this writing aspect of my life, something that I wish yet again to exorcise by doing this simple musing.
But will this thing still work, discussing my thoughts in my blog? Perhaps. I still have faith in this blog activity after all.
As to those thoughts: I realize each day that personal life is balanced by putting one’s attention to the world beyond one’s bedroom. Too much brooding over domestic stuff rots you inside, while too much attention on outside affairs makes you an abstract entity. The merging the two gives you a corporeal identity. Life isn’t always about yourself; it is also sharing the living with the others. But most of the time, we cannot have those ideal situations, and we have to wade through a flood of struggles. True, it makes life spicier but makes us susceptible to surrender.
But in any case, one must have to press on forward, carry a dog tag of optimism, and continue to live life. I cannot afford to sit down with my knees on my cheeks letting the world turn with all its ugly affairs. I know I am in for some extreme feats and decisions in my personal life in the coming months and I have to go for them. There is NO other choice. This is the ONLY definition of choice for me—to go for them. Only then, I believe, will I be able to fully say that I am living that ‘free life’ that existentialism has tried to define.
I wish my fingers would bleed ink so that words would now flow freely after this.