The 20th year of my life has been one filled with rollercoasters, rollercoasters that would give the largest rollercoaster in the world a run for its money. Replete with emotions and feelings like intense love, fiery hate, scornful disgust, unnatural longing, violent sadness, terrible loneliness and painful misunderstandings and miraculous victories, this 20th year has been one that I will never forget. Without divulging what exactly happened this year (because writing is no longer the catharsis it used to be), I’d like to ramble meaninglessly in this post. As a treat for everything I’ve gone through this year.
First things first.
The muse has left me. Whether for a temporary vacation or for forever-and-always, I don’t know. All I know is that writing no longer comes to me as naturally as breathing, and is even cause for anxiety (at times).
When I reread the blog post I had written for my 19th birthday, I was stunned to notice this: the muse has been a rarely-frequent visitor since more than a year now.
How did I not know this already? Maybe I was too engrossed in making the book review blog the success I hoped it would be (remember? I talked about that in my 19th birthday blog post)? Maybe my self-critical way of editing blog posts acted like a roadblock to my creative thought process? Maybe I got too weighed down by academics and the muse got pissed off, unsuccessfully trying to distract me from balance sheets and law amendments with her big baby blue eyes and curvaceous body? (What? My muse is drop dead gorgeous and a stunner. (Of course I have to say these things about her, because she’s standing right behind me, watching me trying to write this blog post with a rusty brain and unsteady fingers))
Whatever the cause for the muse to start acting like a whimsical wimp, the truth continues to stare at me: my muse has taken another lover.
What does that mean for my blog? Will it still exist, or will it fade away? I have no honest answer for that. Some days, I hope I could just erase every trace of this blog from the internet and pretend I never had the gift of the pen. Some days, I wish I could still write the way I used to: stupid theories, fantastical stories, relatable poems oozing out of my brain in quick waves. The feel of my hands itching for the nearest writing pad / my phone to get my ideas out, before they fade away into that mental trashcan which is (regrettably) an integral part of every writer’s brain. The rush that every like and heartfelt comment gave me. Right now, all those memories of every blogging milestone I’ve achieved seem like a life I lived on another planet: distant and surreal.
I may still stick to writing as a means of recreation on a long, boring day when I’ve exhausted all my options of enjoying new-found hobbies: scrolling through YouTube for violin/cello/acapella covers, bingeing on TV shows, solving BuzzFeed quizzes, sharing memes with my amigos, sending lame snaps to people, blah blah blah. But I can assure you of this, if you do see something posted on this blog, you can safely assume that I’ve wasted more than three hours writing this post and have braved through mountains of anxiety and self-doubt to actually hit the publish button.
Sigh. That’s enough writing about my writing woes.
There are a lot of things I’d like to write about here: for example, my academic achievements, my new job, my horrible social life (summary in one sentence: it doesn’t exist), my non-existent romantic life (IKR!!!! How does a charming, sweet, intelligent baby-of-Aphrodite-and-Athena not have a darling little man dangling by the crook of her arm yet????? I haven’t figured out why too!!!!!).
But, and I have thought about this a lot before making this decision, I feel the need to distance my offline persona from my online one. I don’t really feel like sharing each and every emotion I feel on my Twitter account now. I don’t feel like uploading Q&As about myself on my Instagram account anymore. Facebook, you ask? I never ended up using Facebook as a platform to do ANYTHING related to my blog, despite my grand plans to do so.
In short, I may end up posting a lot of fiction / poetry / theories on this blog (please remember earlier disclaimer), and limit my personal posts to the two rituals I have on this blog: my birthday blog post, and the new year’s eve reflections post. Social media of course, would be used more often to promote my blog posts and book reviews and less often to share my views about the latest song by my favourite artists (Panic! At The Disco is the only exception)
Sigh. Deep sigh.
I honestly don’t know what lies ahead in this 21st year of life that I start today. I can only hope to keep breathing and living, with a happy smile on my face and in my head, with a 100% level of love and charm in my heart, with a brain like a sponge to keep learning and becoming smarter. I also aim to kick-start this 21st year armed with a strong desire to face every curveball thrown my way with the help of jaw-breaking decisions or, if that’s not possible, the ability to concoct a fitting meme as a comeback. (Gettit? Either face a situation strategically and successfully or joke about it). Moreover, I hope this 21st year of life that I’ve started today is filled with many new first-times, and is not a mere repetition of the many mistakes I’ve made till date.
And so, till the muse rings my (door) bell, adieu. Thank you for sticking around till the end of this post, you have earned my heartfelt gratitude.