I had a blog. I used to write. I used to do many creative things like draw, play guitar, take staged photographs and create fictional worlds. I looked at the page views this blog has and the numbers are surprising for a journal with no direction. 100, 947 views since 2010. What if I had kept going?
The strange thing now is... I'm not that sad or disheartened by the fact that those hobbies are of the past. It's become a meandering wish list that has no home. Five years ago, I wanted to write a book. Now the words I used to be a master of, the idea of empathy and the burning passion struggles to form.
My goals have become about fulfilling wanderlust. I want to travel. Owe nobody. Sometimes I want to cease existing (well, that's not new), but it's come to a point where all the thoughts I have are bubbling over. Conversations aren't enough to contain the process.
I'm twenty five and many things have strangely come full circle. It's a slow incline and I'm not sure what's waiting for me at the top. I think five years is enough time to start from the beginning again though. So many things have changed, enough that I hope apathy works in my favor... that all the eyes that used to watch me are now strangers.
2015 is coming to an end soon. I still don't know if I've gotten better at understanding myself at all, but I don't really care. I'm working on things and I can't be unhappy about all the experiences I've been gifted so far.
x
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