There have been times in my life I have written in order to express, to share, to talk about things, and on rare occasions, to get a discussion going.
But lately, I’ve begun to sense a tendency to withdraw, as if my entire being is preparing to hibernate, as if all my energies are directed inwards. Any call outwards seems like a disturbance rather than an invitation. I would rather just sit in my room and write, thank you, and I’m not too bothered about who, if anyone ever, is going to read it. Dangerous tendency, that of forgetting the readers.
But wait, not all are barred. I do have an imaginary reader. She sulks in a corner sometimes, at others gets excited about a passage I’ve written, and sometimes urges me push the delete button on the whole damn thing. I wonder what she looks like, for I have never really seen her, she can’t be seen other than from the corner of the eye. She talks a lot though, and often makes me wish I couldn’t hear her.
I’d give anything to make her smile, her smile comes with a chuckle I can hear, and it is a sound I love. If she ever praises what I write, I swear I shall die immediately and go to heaven.
In the meanwhile, I apologize to the blogging world. There will be a post or two when the mood takes me, or if I need to get away from my room and my reader, but mostly, I’m just gonna stay in.