The Prodigal Blogger

I’m sorry I was gone for quite some time.

I had an eventful 2009, but never got around to writing about it because somewhere along the way I lost, not time, but the desire to write about things.

I lost my desire to write. Me. Can you believe it? It was a painful realization.

I have a Twitter. That influenced the way my thoughts came — in spurts of 140 characters or less. It’s still there, but I’m trying not to be too attached to it now.

I had a Tumblr ’til about 5 minutes ago. Easy blogging, reblogging and likes galore? It sure lowered my standards of writing. I used to joke about how I wanted to be an internet celebrity and Tumblr became a haven for that half-dream. More blog entries, more uploads, and much less substance.

My WordPress blog (right here) has less of an audience, and definitely less publicity, but it still offers me a place to write, to rant, to rave, to share things.

I want to write for all the right reasons again.

I missed this blog. I’m sorry I left, but I’m back now. Hopefully for good.

The year is new.

2010 is up. I wonder how this year will turn out this time.

2009 was, for many different reasons, both the best and the worst year of my life.

So many wonderful things have happened in the span of those 12 months. I met new people, gone places I’ve never been before, did things I’ve never done. So many new things, in fact, that I can’t even squeeze a summary into a blog entry lest this turn into a 100-page novela.

And yet, as the year went along, it seemed like how awesome this year was was directly proportionate to the shit it threw in my or my friends’ or our country’s way. Storms, blackouts, accidents, deaths, screwed-up policitcs and more storms.

It’s like the good went hand in hand with the bad.

I know it’s only symbolic, the passage of an old year to the new, but new year’s to me has always been like a reset button. Erase all the past useless, cluttering crap, take whatever improvements you’ve developed, and move on to something new, possibly upgraded. And that’s what I’m doing.

I’m not expecting this year to be perfect. I just hope there’s less tragedy and a little more fun this time around.

Happy new year! And a happy new decade, too. :)

23 going on 24

One day, my thoughts are going to get the best of me. And that scares me.

The holidays get me sad and lonely and… pained. I’ve turned off  people close to me so many times this year and the years before with my “I hate Christmas” rants, but I can’t help it. I CAN’T HELP IT. I can’t get over it.

It’s not even Christmas. Christmas just amplifies what I struggle with throughout the year — the ins and outs of depressive states.

It’s gotten past the usual adolescent angst  and developed into something more. Take this angst, multiply it a hundredfold and prolong it, that’s what it is.

What you see on Facebook is fake.

Smiles for the camera. Smiles and giggles and laughter in real life are fleeting things to me. It’s when I’m anywhere alone that the facade breaks and I feel the emo again. And I feel so alone, all the fucking time.

Why? I don’t know.

It’s hard not to have a group of friends to run to, a group of friends to look for you when you disappear from the world for a while, a group of friends to give you birthday or Christmas  gifts, for crying out loud.

I want this all just to go away. I want to go away. Live life alone and quietly in some distant corner of the world, but that’s not gonna happen. I’m 23 years in and everything’s still the same, or worse than it was before, even.

I’m so fucking sick of this shit.

End.