There is no special reason why I have been away from the blogosphere. I wish there is. I wish I went on a trip and met the love of my life, and through those nights that I should have been writing, I was with him instead, perhaps watching a noir film. But I was pretty lazy the entire summer that I haven't gone anywhere aside the Metro and my house... and I am still irrevocably single. Or maybe, I could have won the lottery and had started my personal coffee business. So while you guys were waiting for my updates (which I definitely doubt) I was doing some auditing and brewing some coffee. But I was close to being broke, even until now. I have a writing job that does not pay well and I have been pretty sloppy with my expenses... and I am still single.
Or the greatest thing that I had always wished to happen... I wish I was writing something grand. Something I was really serious about to announce, and something that could at least prove me that I REALLY SHOULD WRITE all throughout my entire existence.
The point here is that nothing happened and so I told you nothing. I wish I lived for something, even for a little while. But spot on, I definitely didn't.
And I am still single.
I feel like I am fluttering, for the nth time. I guess, I have always been like this, thoroughly pointless. It's like I know what I want to do, but I always lack the motivation. I lack the sight of future. I lack the ability to go beyond what I want. Which I know, is pretty dumb.
I have so confirmed this idea through a series of mind-boggling conversations. I guess the people involved did not realize it, but they kind of hit me right to the core. One of these conversations came out rather shallow, wait, DEFINITELY SHALLOW.
Someone: So you're graduating?
Someone: So what will you do next?
Someone: Write what?
And I completely ended there. I did not realize, until now, that dreams should be specific, or at least, you should know where you're heading to. What do I want to write anyway? What am I writing now by the way? With those I am completely clueless about. The thing is, I have gone used to the fact that I JUST WANT TO WRITE, nothing more and nothing less. But what happens after I have written something? SHIT. SHIT HAPPENS.
And life, being the total bitch he/she/it is, surrounds me with the finest people the youth today can ever imagine. I am definitely not envious about them, in fact, I am really happy. I feel so privileged seeing them grow into something really grand. They are all packed with strong ideologies and idiosyncrasies, and they definitely know how to fight for them. And they are now fighting for them. But they involuntarily post the most haunting question ever "What about you, Rhea?". Yes. What about me? Well, I have got some ideas in here and I keep them inside a box. And I do not know what to do with them. And they definitely do not know what to do with their own self either.
What the actual fck.
I should end here because I have been really really angry. I think. I hope to keep up with this blog soon.
And I am still single.