Writing has become optional and the option of not is chosen more often then the other one…not because there are no thoughts to share, but somehow it seems that all the thoughts have become tainted with emotions and I do not wish to litter this place with fleeting things. Everyone writes for different reason and I have no problem with it. For me personally I want to come here, page back to the beginnings and read and be able to say: yes, I was right back then…or no, this was a wrong thing to believe in. I wish to be able to smile to my own words and to feel my other words as strong as the emotion they reflected, as if they are still valid. I like this sense of being satisfied with all I managed to leave behind. Perhaps, with very few exceptions, but I’m ok with this. Few years ago I was told that I write to get noticed, like everybody else. And I might’ve just as well. I don’t feel the same need now. Strangely enough less friends I have to share stuff with, less need I have to share anything with anyone at all…so when I open a blank page and put my fingers on a keyboard ready to type, the page stays blank most of the time…
I looked at my hands today and suddenly noticed how wrinkled they are. I’ve tried to count wrinkles out of curiosity but lost it somewhere mid-ring finger, there was too many! LOL…My hands are now showing my age. I don’t consider myself looking old in general, but today I’ve noticed it first time how un-young I am. I found myself feeling OK about it. I’ve tried to imagine for a moment how it might’ve been to look young again and oddly felt a relief that I’m not. Somehow looking young became associated with an obligation to get out and be extra active, socially and otherwise, to spend time and effort to be accepted and recognised by others. I was strangely feeling somewhat grateful for being granted the “age” excuse not to make an effort. It really filters down your life to what is important to you personally. I let the World to go by minding his own business; all the while I can mind my own too…is it too self-centred to sigh with relief “ahhh… aged, at last”…
I don’t know if this sounds a little bit “lifeless”, and don’t know if there might come the moment that will snap me off the emotional retirement and bring the wish to be “young” again. If it comes, I’ll deal with it. But for now it is what it is, so I’m marking my words here to see if a future will bring a change.