My soul may have indeed died that moment I stopped writing, almost two years ago.
This journal is not just about my journey, it’s about a lot of other people that I met throughout my life. Too often I would lay thoughts and recollect experiences and scribble them here, but seldom did I give the effort to know the ones I met in the blogosphere.
I do know a handful of them. Especially those whom I followed years ago, back to the early years when I was just starting out blogging, and eventually disappeared. And returned.
Time flew past. I am here again. But sadly, a lot others have left.
Not one, or two, but several bloggers have left, heading on a different path. While I’m catching up on doing what my soul tells me to pursue, others have already bid goodbye long before my unexpected return. The blogs where I used to draw inspiration and ideas from have been abandoned. The blogs that used to tickle my heart and made me laugh like crazy are nowhere getting any new post again.
To say that I feel bad about it is an understatement.
A writer cannot just stop writing. It’s a calling; like wanderlust, one cannot just get rid of that from their system. That is what I know.
But perhaps, they know better.
Twenty minutes after midnight and I’m about to go to bed. Dang! I smell onions in my room.