"Eight years I’ve been here. [5 years for me - selmahld] That’s a long time to be in one place. And yet, I admit, I confess, that the first question I asked myself as soon as I found out about all of this was not how did this happen?, but: is it time to leave?
I know I have thought about leaving a lot of times. Of packing up, of moving on somewhere else, of taking all of this with me, of emptying this place. You know this. You’ve witnessed it, how I turned inward, time and time again, how I wrote in the dark, in private, when it became too much. But then I always come back. Because it seems this is the one anchor I have that has never let me down. Because I have met versions of myself here, because it is proof that strangers who live on opposite sides of the world can become great friends, because one day in August, eight years ago, I posted the very first poem that spoke the truth of who I was: My heart had become very small; it took very little to fill it." — readalittlepoetry | wordpress
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So i found the sentence above this morning, and it amazingly connects to me about what i feel about this blog. Its been such a journey, started years ago when i was alone and lonely, quarantined in a small room because i had chicken pox and i couldn't risk spreading the virus to my fellow families who lived under the same roof as me.
This blog is a space where i can really be myself, whether when life was still breezy and easy, living was simple and great, or when it slowly but steadily became more and more complicated. I used to write here for fun, to documented things that happened in my life, because memories fade, and i simply wanted them to remain. This is a space i created when i was a kid, and i keep filling it through teenage years, and it becomes more important each day. Because there are days when i need something to do nothing, not to judge nor give me a hug, just to listen and listen and listen, and at the end of the day still not get tired of me — and here is where i always get it. I write what i feel, i write from a [my] biased point of view. This is the place that can make me feel safe, and be saved, and to save. This blog is a reflection of how i grow up, of how i become more mature in each newer entries i posted. And i know that not a lot of people actually read it. But being listened is not why i write. This is a canvas of abstract scratches i have painted along the years, with blacks, reds and even pinks. Through thick and thin. This is the place where i can be myself, even if i dont have any idea of who i am.
"Because i have met versions of myself here."
In these years of growing up, you dont know where you stand, you dont know who you are. You want it to be just easy sometimes; to live what's been expected. But discovering you is an inevitable journey, and whether you want it or not, you will get to that phase. Here, i found, i can be whoever i want to be that day. I can be careless, or maybe too happy, or maybe stay positive, or maybe depressed — each posts are different. And people may think those as random, but believe it or not, i learn a lot about myself through the words i have written. To write them down is to feel them in the realest form, and i am grateful i have this space where i can learn about me. Not necessarily a self discovery, but identity is found little by little. Those covered by dusts are one by one wiped clean.
I dont write to make people read, to hit certain numbers of page visits, but i write genuinely for myself. For the relief feelings it brings, for the memories it keeps, for the opportunity of being able to be me and not fulfilling what others expect.
To keep my own darkness safe and not to be seen.
But thank you if there are readers out there. Maybe you will get tired [maybe you already are] with my never ending journey of self discovery and recovery; maybe you understand and going through some rough patches yourself.
All and all, love you all.