Maybe you know me and maybe you don’t and maybe you stumbled upon this blog as like a major accident and you’re running back in the completely other direction. I don’t know. Life is weird like that, you end up in places and you can’t always seem to figure out how you go there.
And I know I said I stopped posting and I meant I stopped posting, but I didn’t stop writing cuz writing doesn’t just stop. If you write, it’s in you like in your blood and it just bursts to come out at the seams.
Suddenly you find yourself opening up a blank document and typing as fast as your fingers can handle while your coworker leans over and watched astonished as words fill the page at an alarming speed. “Wow; I didn’t know people could type that fast using only two fingers!”
My name is nice, it’s pretty. I like it. I mean, my real name; not my pen name. (Although it’s nice too). It’s just attached with these strings of society and dating and suddenly you feel like you’re suffocating.
What is freedom? Is this freedom? Being able to say whatever I want (or at least a slight illusion of such). Or is it just another type of box, and we just won’t admit it?
Is it freedom if we are slaves to ourselves?
To our feelings?
Oh it feels so good to be here.
To talk vaguely about journeys and ideas and not feel like the world must want me to make sense because other people only really read actual sense.
Life is weird.
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say or where I’m going with this.
I don’t know if or when or how I’ll write here again.
But…I kinda like it; like being here.
Comment down below what vague topic of life has been cluttering your mind.
Maybe we can have a conversation that doesn’t make much sense to the majority of society together.
❤ Me, as always