Why I Blog (Updated)

This blog was started back in 2007, when I was 15, and impatient and naive and young and foolish. Well, I am eighteen now, and not much has changed – except that I like pineapple cake a good deal less than I used to.

It amuses me now, to read through the posts here and look back on the kind of girl I was, or used to be. Impatient, opinionated, naive, thoughtful, serious, funny, enraged, secretive, sometimes silly, and sometimes surprisingly sensible, moody, passionate, and contradictive. I wouldn’t say that I’m not any of those things now – it’s just that I’m perhaps less disillusioned, and a little wiser. I exchanged my rose-tinted glasses for clearer, more truthful ones long back.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that the age issue has frequently cropped up several times. I’ve discussed, criticised, whined about, and expressed disbelief at the age thing many times. The reason, as I have now come to understand it, is because of a nameless and baseless dread on my part: a fear of time, and the way it can control someone’s life. To me, time was this elusive, big, gaping mystery – like a shadow hovering above, following you wherever you go. All your thoughts, actions and words were mere trivialities caught up in an impossibly vast, twisted notion of time. But you know what? It’s okay. It’s okay to sometimes attempt to run from the past, or dread the future. What matters is that the present is here, and it’s now. Isn’t that beautiful? There’s a strange kind of freedom in knowing that.

An old, previous version of this page, written about three years ago, used to contain the following sentences:

Actually I have know idea why the fuck I’m writing this stupid introductory thing to myself. It’s not like I’m gunna forget why I created a blog in the first place?

At the time of writing that, I honestly wrote without ever questioning why. But now I know. I’m not a very honest person in real life. I’m not very brave either – I hate confronting people and situations – often I’ll either laugh at them, make fun of myself, or ignore them altogether. I’ll resort to sarcasm, start blabbering about anything and everything, and hide behind arguments and sarcastic replies. It’s dishonest, but it helps me to get through the day.

I write here because it’s the only place where I can be honest. To others, and to myself. I write here because it’s the only way I can say what I mean, and mean what I say. I write here because I can laugh at myself. I write here because although I am a person of many masks, I need to be no one here but myself. I write here because I can know and learn about so many amazing people out there. I write here because it’s the only way I can untangle my thoughts and put them down in an isolated repository, because it’s the only way I deal with the chaotic and wild place I call my mind.



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  1. Amen to that. I look forward to reading yer blog regularily =)

  2. So is this your own website? Its pretty fucking rad. Your like the me who did’nt start blazing at 11 :P , hate when people break shit down all slow and long and boring when you already have gotten the point , too. heh – Words diminish meaning. Simplicity is the closest to truth.

    • Words diminish meaning. Simplicity is the closest to truth.
      True, but we should be careful about the line between simplicity and triviality. Simplicity is often closest to truth, but it’s important not to let it diminish into a stripped-down, deceptive version of itself. To overly simplify is often as dangerous as to unnecessarily complicate.

      Also, words can diminish meaning only if they are either too less, or too many. Words are physical manifestations of abstractions, the harbinger of ideas, the shapers of thought.

      Thanks for the compliment, and the visit. Take care. ^_^

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