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Saturday, March 15, 2014

Berth Day

One day ago, I had what most people refer to as a "birthday". Now, I will not dwell on why it sounds wrong to call it that in the first place (i.e. you're only born once), but I can't help despising the idea of celebrating it. Each one of those days that passes by is like one line on a graduated cylinder that's being drained of its contents. I really don't mean to be derisive; I'm not judging anyone.

Now, even though I'm not judging anyone, I, myself, do not want to celebrate the anniversary of the day I was born. I expect everyone to accept that! People think it's because I'm shy; it's not, and I'm not. I don't come up to people and say stuff like "Hey, don't accept felicitations today." Likewise, I expect that no one demand that I do.

I know I sound crazy, but I'm a bit angry. My brother posted birthday wishes on my wall on Facebook, and it was followed by a stream of happy posts. I appreciate the positive atmosphere, and I like to know that many people don't hate me, but I felt my rules--my stupid, silly rules--were broken. I don't like that.

I like to spend the anniversary of my birth like any other day. Uneventfully, and comfortably. Preferably in or near my bed.

Writer's Blog

I can't seem to write anymore. It's like back in school when we'd be asked to write about a specific topic, in a specific style, during a specified period of time. It didn't work then, and it certainly isn't working now.

I used to write really badly back then; but it wasn't because I was bad at it, but because I didn't want to do it. It wasn't until I finished high school and went to university--more specifically, when I was first exposed to the internet and social media--that I started doing this right. Now, by right I don't mean in the proper--or even the correct--way; I mean freely. In the past few months, however, I haven't been able to write anything. It might be the lack of time or energy, but I have a feeling that there's something within me preventing me from releasing my emotions in written form.

It doesn't make sense, though. When a writer feels good or bad, he or she writes about feeling good or bad. Shouldn't a writer, when unable to write, be able--nay need--to write about not being able to write?

Am I out of topics? No. Am I out of humour? Absolutely not! 
I need to write, and I don't think I know how anymore.

What is wrong with me?

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Blog Entry

I haven't blogged in while, and I don't know why. Maybe I've been busy. But I do know that my writing skills are deteriorating because of that. My emotional state today demands that I write. (Which is another way of saying "I feel like writing!")

In October, I moved to another city to save myself some time to study. I didn't like it. Still don't. Not a week had passed when we got burgled; I lost my laptop (that I'd bought only two months earlier) and my iPod touch (which my uncle gave me). My diet is now mostly junk food, which made me fatter. And the whole thing is not cost-effective at all.

I hate to complain, but here I'm doing it. My most important complaint is that I'm losing my touch; I can't seem to write well anymore!

I apologize deeply.