I Write

I write to stay alive. In a futile attempt to remove the broken bits in me, I write and I write again… On paper, in my mind, on the web, in this blog, drafts of me scattered all around in physical and ethereal forms… I wrote stories of her, of us… Stories of what I wanted my life to be, to what it has been. I wrote many things, things that now I no longer even remember… I have hundreds if not thousands of unpublished thoughts, thoughts that deliquesce along space and time only to be isolated and coagulated by emptiness, thoughts that for no rhyme nor reason just came crashing into my mind.

Even as I ran out of inspiration, I turned to aspiration… Like breathing, I have to continue writing… Even if it’s just for the canvas to see and feel, even if it is on a tissue that will end up being smudged and rendered illiterate. I write… I don’t know who I’m writing to or who I’m writing for… Heck, I don’t even know who reads these crap…

I wanted to write a book and I even got a title for it, but I figured along the lines of cost and profits - It will not work out. For I harbour way too many thoughts that would interest no one, no things, no beings… Thoughts stored along the bytes and folders of archive, written and stashed under the forgotten pages of yellowed history. As long as I live, I have to keep writing… To leave a piece of me, to leave a piece of memory, no matter how short and insignificant it may be…

Here, I’ve written again…