There's something so pleasant about breezy Sunday's spent searching for new music and reading about the daily events of my favourite bloggers, and of course, blogging about my own daily events. I have neglected my passion for writing for the longest time, involuntarily. I cannot help but succumb to the fast-paced stream of photoblogs, rather than written ones. But I suppose after reading a few of the online diaries belonging to very interesting personalities, I would like to devote more time to nurturing what used to be my "escape". This blog is a part of me and although it may seem nonsensical to most, it holds many precious feelings that were too personal to be spoken aloud. But what irony, as the internet is probably the most public place on Earth. I suppose it is the feeling of seclusion in my own private world, that this blog gives me. When spoken words travel so fast on sharp tongues, which are abundant in the place I happen to be.
My blog has always been the one I pour myself out to, which is probably why it is so difficult for me to express my sadness to people, now. The best I can do is stumble across the words that sound so perfect in my head, but never quite right when they slip out of my mouth. I always just end up sighing and muttering, "I don't know" over and over.
I should fix that.
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