"Why don't you blog anymore?" asks my good friend, Phoram.
It is not the first time she is asking. She has repeatedly inquired about the absence of my once frequent Sempiternal Scribbles over the past few months. My answer is complicated. I do blog, in the sense that I do have a lot to say, in my head at least. I keep thinking of updating this space but then don't get around to it either because I don't find the time or I'm too lazy or unsure of whether I really want to share what's on my mind.
My relationship with my writing was never this complicated. If I wanted to pen something, I would and share it without hesitation, not caring who reads it or what they think of it. But perhaps I was young and naive then. Or bold. Perhaps this blog was primarily an outlet for my young-adulthood rantings and rebellion, or a space where I confessed all the many things I used to feel for people who were once important to me.
Or till recently a platform I used to promote myself and my words, an avenue I often attempted to win blogging contests with. But none of that appeals to me now. It seems strangely adolescent. Perhaps I have changed too much, though I'm not sure if it's for the better or worse, or whether I’d like to label it growing older or more mature.
What I do know is that my friend Phoram misses reading my blog. A few other people too keep asking why I don't write more here. It touches me in a way I cannot even express, so for them at least, I am going to try again. The past few months have been full of change and overwhelming emotions. It would be right to say that I didn't know how to properly channel them all, so safely stowed them away inside, the way I do so many things.
The highlight of recent times has of course been the completion of my master's degree and moving back home against my own innermost desires. It has been an emotionally charged and draining time with me often feeling both elated and sad at the same time – an exhausting mix of polarities. I fell in love with a city and then bid adieu to it, earlier than expected. One of my best friends didn't meet me to say goodbye. It made me question everything I thought I knew about our friendship. I spoke to him today after months and it was funny how we talked like nothing has changed, updating each other about our lives just like we used to. The conversation reeked of time moving on but also reassured me that perhaps somethings never change even if we feel certain they have. After the call ended, I felt both happy and sad, nostalgic for a time I know will never ever come back. For a long while, I just lay in my semi-dark room contemplating how very strange the nature of life is.
In other news, I have started a new job and it's the most challenging thing I've ever taken up even though on the surface it seems like “just a teaching job”. The days pass into weeks and I wait for the moment I will be able to take up writing full-time. Things are often not how we want them to be but personally, I feel like there is a compass within me, pointing me in the right direction my life is supposed to take. I am confident that things will eventually turn out just as I want them; or perhaps even better than I can imagine, all I have to do is believe and keep going. If there is one thing living away from home has taught me it is to have faith of the real kind – the one that doesn't waver no matter what new seemingly insurmountable obstacle seems to stare you in the face.
And it is with this faith that I blog after such a long time. Faith that friends like Phoram love my writing and want me to keep at it no matter how busy or tired I get with other things. So this one is for you, Phoram, and also you, if you are reading this and keep returning to my blog despite the fluctuations in my writing frequency.