It's been ages since I last wrote!
And I expect I'll probably write less from now. Writing, as I've mentioned time and time again, is - or was - my way of coping with reality. It was my oxygen mask, my drug...it was what I clung onto. To grab a hold of the ideas and thoughts swimming around in my consciousness and immortalize them in words for an imaginary audience. An eager audience who would receive my words of so-called wisdom and be drawn into my world, attracted to my mind with a voracious appetite for more clues that would unravel the complicated mystery of my own self. But it was mostly me humoring myself prancing about a lit stage in the midst of an empty theatre, pretending to feel at ease with the world. I was someone confident, deadly, sentimental, practical...different...special. I was having the time of my life being all of those in this universe of little tidy black characters sitting neatly in horizontal bunches.
But recently I've found something that could be much more.
I made the decision last week to commit myself to God. I had never imagined that I would, at least that soon. At this moment the flashing indicator on my draft pauses as I hesitate to think what to type next. I start to have flashbacks to the times where I was being cynical, questioning the purpose of religious faith in a higher being whom I cannot perceive with my senses. I think about the times when I was being unnecessarily anal about telling others how "I was born into a Christian family - but technically I'm not one because I'm not saved yet" whenever I was asked about my religious views. I recall moments when I silently scoffed at the people who were being all "holy" and overly-immersed in the whole spiritual affair, doubting their credibility. And at the end, I was just trying to find my way to the light. The light which I felt was a surrender of my own self-absorbed pride to Christianity.
I am afraid of departing from something I've relied so heavily on for years. Of course, I'm not swearing off writing for good, but I expect that with a new purpose and outlook on my life now I would have no particular need to use my blog and my diary as platforms to vent on mercilessly. In many ways I'm still the same, but I feel different too. It's sort of exciting to be able to restart and try to live my life differently now. I feel a sense of calm, yet a sort of silent happiness as I walk a winding path with autumn colors towards an end point.
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