There’s this inexplicable feeling inside of me. This “thing” doesn’t always allow me to live happily and care free. Excitement fills me up like a balloon and empties just as fast as you can pop one with the prick of a tiny needle. I try…God, I try to hold on to it for as long as I can. No one knows how often I sit alone in the dark with just me, my thoughts and I. Sometimes for hours; or over the course of a few days. I think and I think hard and even about nothing at all.
Your brain wants you to think. It’s how it protects itself.
But does it know that that’s also how it destroys itself? That a person like me will one day close the curtains to the windows that see out to the physical world forever with no wounds from the battle we call life? All that time was spent thinking and analyzing thoughts. If you looked inside the walls of my mind though, there’d be writings on the wall telling tales of everything I wanted to do but never did. You’d find never-ending shelves lined with jars that hold every scream, frustration, and demeaning thing I’ve ever let “out” to myself. These —perfectly aligned— would be thoughts that I revisited frequently throughout my time.
All of this being beside the point and also critical to your understanding of the bigger picture. What I’m trying to spell out for you is that I’ve slowly become disinterested in what I’ve been doing here. I’d be lying if I said it’s not because it’s hard, because it is; but people do it all the time. However, there’s another very simple reason why: just because I’m not into it anymore. What’s painful about admitting this is that I WANT to be into it. I love writing, editing photos, making connections with all of you who take your precious time to read what I have to say and view my content.
I remember one year ago when I started this all, I was giddy. There were times I’d drag my mom out of the house in the scorching Summer heat to scout locations and take photos of me. We’d be red in the face with beads of sweat hanging from the corner of our brow as she snapped away as if our lives depended on it. My laptop had a permanent spot in my bag everywhere I went so that I could edit and post. Regardless of all this, there was always this dark thought looming over me that has made its presence known whenever I’ve taken on something new in my life. Ever since I can remember. The question “When will I get tired of this?”
It easily could have been in two weeks to a few months if my heart weren’t truly into it. This time, it was different. At least I thought it’d be.
I’m hopeful it still can be.
Every night I pray that tomorrow the desire to get back into my blog will be sparked again. No one has any idea how many times I’ve screamed at myself for abandoning this. I’m capable and at the same time when I attempt to get up it feels as if I weigh a million pounds.
But I want to try. That’s why I’m here pounding away at my laptop, not just because my mom told me an hour ago “write, Chloinnis. Just write.”; or maybe that is why.
I’m here to let you know that I’m still here and I haven’t forgotten about you. Hopefully there are still some of you riding on my rollercoaster with me. Hell, if you even visited my site and read this far, thank you.
There are always highs and lows in life —for some more than others— but it’s better if we ride ‘em together.