Hi, it's me.
I'm still alive and... quite honestly, doing well. With regards to external circumstances, that is. Internally, I am still pretty much a mess, but perhaps a more organised mess, at least?
I have actually no recollection of this blog.
In fact, I have created and written in so many blogs over the years that it's hard to even remember them all. Much less what I actually wrote in them.
Now, this blog is one of the few anomalies in my long and untidy history of blogging. In the sense that it is an anonymous outlet. I've only ever done this twice, as far as I can recall. And both times, it was triggered by terrible, sad incidents in my love life which I had trouble getting over.
Two guys, over the course of my time in uni, significantly broke my heart in ways they probably never realised. Or did realise, maybe, just a little too late for anything to be done to undo the repercussions?
It's been 10 years since I last wrote here. Imagine that!
I almost don't know where to begin. But it's great rediscovering this space. To be honest, it might even be a good thing.
Let me backtrack a little...
I am doing much, much better in the 10 years since I last came here. I no longer have an unmended, broken heart. I actually fell in love with someone who values me. We had a whole long journey of our own, and emerged victorious at the other side. We got married. We have kids now to carry on our legacy.
I have moved on from a career I did not fancy (but was qualified to do due to my university studies) into a totally different one that I actually love doing and had aspired to do for the longest time in the past.
A lot has changed.
I no longer have the angst and bitterness I used to harbour. Well, at least not on the surface. In many ways, true love does heal (most) wounds. But the scars do not altogether fade. Some even still ache when you poke at them a little too much.
I have recently revisited some of the old incidents for which the posts in this blog were originally inspired by. They seem more benign now, probably because I have forgotten a great deal of the details surrounding them. While that is a good thing, it doesn't change the fact that some things about those circumstances still puzzle me to this day.
I do realise that not everything will make sense to us in this life and that we may never be afforded the reasons why. But it is sometimes so hard to live with not knowing. To be left with loose ends and to wonder whether you should just burn the evidence, or heap them up and shove them into a box to be tucked in a quiet corner where someday you can sift through them and ponder them and derive some wisdom from them.
All of this kind of explains why I'm here.
I chose the latter option. I did not destroy it all. I kept it. Hid it somewhere. And maybe now the time has come to deal with these little monsters that once used to terrify me.
Is this a journey leading on to other outcomes or merely a moment of reminiscence, inconsequential to anything else out here in the realm of reality? I don't know. I'm still figuring out what to do with this figurative box of memories I have on my hands.
Would anyone understand why these mean something to me? Or would everyone else just think I am stupid or crazy or something along these lines to have held on to these things for so long?
Anyway, this cloak of anonymity seems comforting. Let's put it on for awhile and see what happens.
