#tdaaaa

[tdaaaa]

I read 'Desiderata' today

One of the poems that sparked my interest in the craft years ago. The flood of appreciation that I have for such art overwhelms me; knowing that, as a kid, I never really got the gist of such a piece. I never really felt the need for such 'flow' or solace, the need for inner peace and acceptance and the desires of life.

Appreciation that stems from the fact, that despite my forgetfulness, despite my failure to keep desiderata close to my heart as a reminder of where I want to land as the years passed, I still ended up here.

Affirmation. Yes, that might be the word that I'm looking for. Knowing that despite the things that I've done; amidst the things that happened to me and that have happened because of me. The person that I see myself as, is the person that I always wanted to be.

Whatever process, whatever pompous illustrative prose I could give in order to translate the 'how I felt through those years' or the hardship that my choices have entailed. I am affirmed, it what worth it, I am at peace.

[tdaaaa]

Conflict

I am conflicted by the nature of how I write. I used to write in such an unfiltered, raw, and unrefined way, although I don't have the audacity to label my capability as a "talent" that I possess... People have given me support in the form of positive feedback.

Despite what people say, I shut off any emergent feelings of self-affirmation. I never wanted to see myself as a 'good' writer.

This lead me down a path of reading, analysis, application, and practice. A continuous cycle that I still put myself through up until today.

Nowadays, I can't help but notice that I couldn't write without second-guessing myself. I couldn't shake-off the feeling that every piece that I put out into the world should reflect the "skill" that I've honed through the years of subjecting myself through this process; in other words, I find it hard to finish my sentences without second-guessing myself.

Oh God, it's honestly dreadful. As I'm writing right now, I'm trying my best to just let the words flow, to just trust myself that I have the capability to get through a piece with such eloquence and grace. It's ironic to think, that in the practice of this craft, the only part of me that has grown is the part that doubts my use of words.

That constant self-doubt. The feeling that I will always fall short if it weren't for the constant checking-editing-deleting-rewriting. Yet hopefully, if I manage to let go just enough. If I manage to just let my mind do its work, if I manage to trust that my fingers would land on the appropriate keys, if only I could manage to resist aiming for something "good".

You'd be reading this. Though it may not have been something "good". It's something that's 'me'.

[tdaaaa]

A pitch black room might as well be an infinite space;

A total absence of light wherein your eyes start to play tricks on your mind.

You close your eyes, you open them, close. The only way to tell the difference is through the sensation of your eyelids shut.

I could probably exist in this void for the rest of my life-

[tdaaaa]

Typical Morning.

Wretched sunshine, Get out of my face. Said; As if the moon, Could take its place.

Rubbing my eyes, I found the birds annoying. Despite my muffled groaning, There they were— By my window, Chirping.

I sit on my bed and start stretching, I savor the sound of joints cracking.

Disoriented and grumpy, Until I get a cup of coffee. What's in store for today? For now, that's beyond me.

Though if there's one thing, I wonder why I keep trudging Through another—

[tdaaaa]

Should I?

For me, this tumblr has become an archive of some sort—of my writing years ago, and of the people, and memories, involved in each and every piece—yet recently I’ve been thinking if it’s time to start writing here again. If it’s time to tell the stories that people didn’t get to hear, to once again publish what I write out in the open.

Though yes, there were times that I’ve completely stopped writing (specially the really tough times that I’ve been through in the past years...) I still do, in certain ways, for certain people, and on certain occasions, I write.

I don’t really know what I want to do here, or how, but I guess if you still follow this blog, if you still do remember me, please send an ask? Or anything? In the past few years, I’ve been through a lot, and I’ve learned so much. From my life in Baguio, to the night outs, dropping subjects, being anxious, suicidal, depressed, to the eventual (and thankfully, current) well-being and happiness that I’m enjoying right now. Thinking about all of it, I’m actually content with my life right now, but if there’s one thing that I’d want to bring back, that’s my writing.

For, in the past few years, I’ve learned a lot about philosophy and art, it’s forms and the way people appreciate those art forms. I guess I have a lot more to say right now than ever, and I’d like to hear from you guys, and rediscover the tumblr community that I had come to love and cherish from years ago...

Please, send me an ask.

[tdaaaa]

I think I'll take a midnight stroll down the beach.

I don't care what my aunt or grandma would say.

I thoughts are washed away with the sound of the waves. :)

[tdaaaa]

You never really did fall in love with me did you?

[tdaaaa]

Every time I write fiction stories,

I usually base it from real events and I just add some fiction,

All you need to do is find out which parts aren't true ;)