For the past months, this blog has become such a happy place, my very own piece of happy bubble that it had been filled with entries about my travels, adventures, and amusing anecdotes.
And in the process of using my bubbly spirit as the medium of documenting my activities and thoughts for the past months, by trying hard to be light and always perked-up in my entries, I have forgotten some vital things that before I knew it, I backslid yet again into a cranky and grumpy person that I myself, even hate to deal with.
For the past months, while basking over my happy bubble, I ignored the part of me that asks questions and cries out for meaning. I’ve forgotten my “writing voice”---that particular tone and pattern in my writing which has been like my definite identity. I even consciously ignored the voices of anger and pain and melancholy, all in my effort to only recognize and write “happy”.
Now, what I’ve proven is the fact that whatever it is that one tries to cover will always, by any means, find a way to resurface---even haunt you in your dreams, especially in those moments when you feel that your happy bubble is indestructible. Maturity in writing and in life as well, isn’t about the capacity of masking any fears and doubts and going about with a happy face. I think, it’s more of acknowledging the presence of these not-so-happy elements, finding the courage to let them wash over but not overpower you, and in the end, choosing happiness over them. I think these two approaches, are entirely different, if not worlds apart in meaning.
Happy or sad, bubbly or melancholic, light or heavy---I need to always remember that all of these are part of my writing voice, are part of what makes me as a person.
So this blog is again welcoming entries with emotions which are as volatile, as raw, and as honest (hopefully) as its owner.
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