I was never much of a writer. I’ve always been more of a thinker. That is why I’m writing this post now, as a question to myself to owning a personal blog. One that I never update anymore. Not now anyway, not this decade.
I used to think that by writing I could let my thoughts out from it’s hard shelled prison. Then maybe once they’re in writing, I can finally sleep at night. But I was wrong. Not only because I wasn’t able to express what I mean to express, but also because by getting them out in the open I create a hollow of which the mind quickly fills again. So I end up with gibberish again now both in and out of the mind.
Maybe what I need isn’t an outlet. Maybe I simply need an interpreter. Someone (or something) that could bring meaning to my thoughts. A pencil to pull lines to connect the dots.
As a matter of fact, I think I have found that someone, and she’s sleeping next door. This is why I shouldn’t stay up all night thinking anymore. Because when she sleeps, no one connects my dots and I get trapped in my deep thoughts again.
Oh well, the price of years of insomnia, one I have yet to redeem. Let’s just say I had a life before I met her.