Undo-ing

why keep moving when there is hesitation? why keep generating when there is no more fuel? why persevere when you obviously don't know and don't care what it's for?

i am starting to see the pattern my brain works.

it generates questions. it disposes facts. most of them self-enhanced facts. true, none the less.

when you find yourself trying very hard to keep up just in order to look or feel that particular way, that particular way that you think is the way things work best, and suits you best, and keep on trying trying trying. and yet, no matter how insecure you might feel, you deny that it's you, you are floating along too.

since when did the ruler of standard became so short and so narrow and so rigid? it is getting suffocating. those who were lucky enough to fall under the standards continue to rule in arrogance, those fighting their butts off and merely making it were living it proudly, those who lost the fight could only whine.

i used to write because i could voice my soul, i used to write because that way i get to know myself and people get to know me. and i used to write because it calms me, from the inside out. from my writings i seek comfort and i find understanding. i reason myself using the tip of my pen instead of speech from my tongue.

one day, yet one day, when i turned back suddenly, i find that i lose all that. the virginity of my literature, it was like fallen leaves, blown astray. alas, where were i to find them?

i am coming back to myself. i am coming back to my Lord. i am leaving behind all the unnecessary. i am leaving behind my vain and pride and insecurity. hopefully, i were to find peace with my fingertips again. where the Lord will dwell in my words and people were there to find His identity.

back to the necessities.