Home again

I am a talkative person in my blog entries. I have tendencies to make a novel out of the pettiest events and details in my life. However, my last attempt for a blog entry was during the 1^st week of October. I was not surprised to see that the only word in the document was a title. It was a wordless, plain, blank page.

Things that usually keep me from writing are the busy school life, my inability to put into words the complexity of my thoughts, feelings and situation and my own will not to do so.

 This is the pain in every writer’s heart. To be unable to do what my heart and hand ached to do. To experience grief and regret over days I was not able to take account of. And to realize that my craft along with my blog is starting to rust.

 But joy lies at the realization of what the silence online has brought me: A writer who has learned more to speak to others what was always unspoken. A writer who has realized how things are not always written because they are understood and analyzed.A writer who was equipped with the desire to restore the “write” commitment. A writer who rejoices for the triumph of a blog attempt. And a writer who celebrates for being home again.