Bear with me.

Writing. What is there to it? I claimed to love so much of writing so far to many of my acquaintances and how it helped me a lot through thick and thin. I love writing because it allows me to make my annual throw back on the things I write and how feel at that moment when it happens as well as the evolution of my writing styles. I see writing as a monthly check up for say because my schedule is just hectic these days, I let it fly by without cherishing it most of the time. Writing means a lot to me. However, I haven't been writing so recently. Well, I haven't been writing for a long time actually.

I've come along way with writing and not to mention this lonesome blog of mine. It has been five years if I'm not mistaken. Five years since I first poured my hearts out to what seemed like a risky addiction when what you write is of adolescence experience. Nevertheless, I didn't let anyone stop me from doing what I want. And all I ever wanted then was to share stories I think not many would care to listen to. I was some sort of a loner in some way but I don't mind. Everyone is different, I guess. So I continued to share my quirky and oh-so-typical experience with myself here anyway because it's my kind of satisfactory at one point.

I was once so passionate and courageous when it comes to expressing myself. What seemed like an impossible environment to be having daily anecdotes and an active blog, was the only thing I would ever want to do back then even when the situation was against me. I can still remember clearly those lonely weekends I spent in the hostel's study room. I wasn't always alone when I write. The room was usually occupied by students with assignments, Internet junkies or occasionally those that write just like me. But on the days that I do have the room to myself, it was a bliss. Somehow, being cooped up in a boarding school wasn't all anti-climatic. I had plenty stories to share and record for the 'older' me to read. I was really eager to write those stories that I found myself slipping my writing sessions into my busy schedule on a weekly basis. It was no joke considering I started blogging during my board exam year. I honestly could not imagined how I managed that right now.

I could write for hours until I can get my point across. I would some time even took the time to put images and quotes in my posts to decorate them. But, it wasn't like I had anyone to read my post or anything, it's just me very keen on getting it all out of my chest after holding them for some time. And the best part about this is not having to worry about anyone judging me. I, like any other teenagers, do not have the best footing in the friendship game. So, this is the best alternative I could ever ask for. I can write and write and write to my heart's desire and never having to care what other people have to say. Plus, I don't directly address people on my blog because that would be just mean. You can try and look it up, go ahead. I don't trash talk in public. I swear. Ha ha. I do it in my own expense. Thank you very much.

Nonetheless, it wasn't all smooth sailing on this boat. There was times when I couldn't bring myself to write like the old days. I wish I wasn't too easy when the situation demands me to stop writing here during the tougher times. I know this would be a bit too ironic considering my tall tale of determination for writing, but you would have to fully understand the significance of writing to me, to see how heart breaking it is to pick up when I write last every time. I'm usually always petrified the umpteenth time I continue my stories. It's practically skipping chapters of a good book. Not knowing the relation of this chapter from the one before and not having the full look on how the character develops. Mostly it is the disappointment of inconsistency that kills me deep down inside. I know how much this means to me and yet I can let myself continue life with chances of repeating the events I gone through before because I didn't write them down.

Here I am though. Writing about the past with hopes that it'll help me to rejuvenate my writing spirits so I won't continue down the endless spiral of despair. Even so I'm actually failing to link the stories to the current future. I feel sorry for whoever that would be reading/is reading/has read this post at the moment. Because this is somewhat hopeless. My future self would later read this post after the last one expecting to have sense of continuation when there's not much to see here. I can't put the past semester stories in brief, honestly. It was months since the last post. A lot had happened. Some was great and some was ridiculously dull and constant at times. One thing's for sure, it hasn't been so good just recently. Prominently. I'm still trying to pick up the pieces from all of it I can assure you. Although slowly. I want to improve. Bear with me because I know asking for more time to write the last couple of weeks would be unacceptable for you, reader, and horrendous for me knowing it was a tragedy I would like to move on. 

But I will write about it. I promise you. If it's the last thing I do.

p/s; No, I will not restart/reset this blog, thank you. Labels don't really mean anything at the moment. So, I won't bother labeling this.

Happy 400th post Bloggie.