444. it depends

The day I dug myself into a hole when I called myself a 'writer'.

A label that has stuck somehow, although I am now 24 years old, from the days when I surrounded myself with purple prose, when I was inspired by the emotional ramblings of other people - convoluted, unbridled, neurotic. But that's just it, it was raw, no filter needed - for what? In all honesty, that, in itself, was probably a filter - a shield from having to put in the simplest and most straightforward of terms that I'm hurt in need desperate alone.

Does it have something to do with my entering a Communications school and taking a journalism module? Direct, they said. Don't put into three words what you can say in one. Don't write things that people don't understand or have to read twice to get. I scoff at the thought that a single module could somehow change the very way I write, but indeed, sometimes a moment is all it takes. Was there even a way I wrote at all? I can't place the moment when I decided that I couldn't write anymore whenever I wanted to - or rather, when it became something external rather than something from within. Dependent on you this that them, anything anyone but me.

I am many other things too. Some identities fall away. Is this one I am no longer willing to embrace?

435. stay

You came like a sudden burst of light that shone so bright; it blinded me, petrified me. I didn't have time to prepare —to present only the best of me, to make the best impression so that you wouldn't run away. You came and saw the truth, imperfect as I am. You came and saw all the reasons why you should go, and still, you stayed; you said you would never let go.

I thought maybe we would just be passer-bys in each other's lives, a momentary blip in this long expanse of time. Who knew you'd be my mainstay? So many ways the world could have come about, my mind still cannot fathom how we came to be here, together, at this point; but I no longer doubt that it was always going to be you and I. It was decreed that it would be you for me and I for you—this I know. And oh, you don't know how thankful I am that it was you He gave. No one else would do and I guess He knew because He gave me you.

434. words

Why I don't write about you

Because my heart gets full and the words get caught in my throat, and the thought springs in my mind that nothing - no words of mine - could ever sufficiently capture all that you've been and all that you are to me - so often in ways that I myself don't even know.

352. track record

This is the point, I think, where it all goes to shreds.
I can feel it.
Historical data has shown it.
I am going to ruin it.

137. representation

I just read something that I wanted to use for my Twitter bio, but I'm hesitating because I actually like my current one, which is "Not nearly as classy as I (sometimes) appear. My favourite pastime is singing along in harmony to recordings of songs." 

Then I was going to tweet about this dilemma, but I realised I had too much to say. Whenever I get like this, I feel like I have too much to say, for Twitter; but too little to write for a blog entry (read: too lazy). 

I don't have enough different social media accounts to put up varied short representations of myself on. Does anyone even write walls of text for their "About Me" sections anymore? Maybe we're all too lazy to explain ourselves. Or more like, how could we even begin capture ourselves in words, or non-words, if we find out something new about ourselves each day? Or rather, finding out how little we actually know ourselves.

Anyways, what I really wanted to share was

“ That period in your 20’s where you’re necessarily having to separate yourself from a kind of romantic idea of yourself. ” — Noah Baumbach on “Frances Ha”

Hah. Funny how that's quite linked to what I didn't know (yet) I was going to end up talking about.

I think I romanticise younger me a lot. "Infallible", I was once called. Haha. I think there was a lot of external more-showy, more beautiful/cool-sounding affirmation before. Maybe things got bad when I stopped getting those. Because those were the ones that had value to me. But affirmation comes in many different forms, and I realise now that the form I appreciate most and the one I'm most grateful for and will cling to is the kind that stays despite ... everything.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." I never really understood this until I felt it for myself. Or that joy is equitable to peace. Thanks, God, for letting me understand those two things.

I don't know how long this period is going to be. But I think I'm always going to have to consciously remind myself to look at and evaluate 'present' me and not expect myself to follow the trajectory of who I was when I was 16 or 17. Coz' that's not me anymore. And if I really like the 'romanticised' me- Hey, that's the time to get off my butt and actually make it a reality.

And also, random! I know most of you don't know this, because really, there's no reason for you to and it's not like it's something that would come up in any day-to-day conversation but - I put in more effort into how my paragraphs physically look than I should.

Have a good 2016, everybody. I want to say it's weird that it feels like nothing's changed but realistically, wouldn't it be weirder to feel like suddenly everything's changed just because time is going on its merry way as it usually does?