Learning To Stand Again

Sometimes I feel that the older we grow, the more we have to learn.

It's funny, actually, what prompted this bout of creative (my @$$) writing. Remember that time when we were in love with Mia and Michael from Meg's Princess Diaries? Remember how I used to write in my diary every day every minute every second? Remember how I wrote about class was boring and me fantasizing about Zac Efron and my heart stopping during competitions and stuff? How I used to read back then laugh at the preposterous things I spewed?

The times when we were young.

I stopped my last diary entry at approximately 24th of September back in 2010. it wasn't a sudden stop; no, nothing ever is. It was gradual, and I knew it was gonna stop, but I simply couldn't find the determination to continue. To preserve every moment and the innocence (if there ever was one) of being young.

So it stopped. And my blog started to rot and decay as well.

Well, that day, I went grocery shopping, and there was this bright yellow journal which came together with one of my groceries. There was a huge "CHANGE" in the middle of the cover. So I thought, why not, since I didn't bring my original diary with me, and my blog is beginning to look like a poems' page instead of an online diary.

I started to write again.

Or should I say, I started to learn what writing feels like again. Learning to write again, learning to breathe again.

I don't know, ever since I got to this school, all I seem to write is short answers for biology, formal-tin-canned essays for English and Facebook statuses. Every time I open my file where all my past writings were kept in, my mind goes blank.

Even now, I'm facing troubles to find topics to write on, here in my blog.

Learning to write again, not intimidating words or stiff formal writing, but creative writing. Now, one of my favourite past-times is to reread what I had written all these years back, be it bored doodles during classes, or blog posts, diaries entries, even Facebook statuses.

Since when did I become so... boring?

Trying to write my first entry in my new diary was... hard. I didn't know what to write beyond "saw this diary in Giant today while shopping.Decided to start writing again." I couldn't think of a single thing in my day I remembered and wanted to tell the future me. Of course, I'm sure there was thousands of little things worth mentioning, but i was just... blank. My mind went empty.

So I flipped through my mental archive of my past diaries. I remember them being filled with giggly stuff, swoons and thousands of happy and furious memories. Then I went through the stuff I wrote in previous essays, fanfictions and stories. Where did that whatever-ness go to?

Writing needs practice. Even now in school I struggle to form a single coherent sentence while writing the formal English essays. After that, I'm at a loss. What else is there to write? What more can I elaborate on? Unless someone provides the point, I'm useless. I'm only good at editing nowadays. I'm no good at writing anymore, so don't even ask me to write a story.

I'm no more the girl who loves to write anymore; I'm nothing but a shadow of that.

My new diary. It has now a total of four entries--one per day. And it gives me a shadow of the joy I used to feel when reading back my old diaries, back when I was fifteen, sixteen. This is my last teen, I want it to mean something. We used to have time to observe and just observe the world, then put it down on paper. But now... I don't know where all my time goes.

Only time can tell if I can find it again, that old me who could see a simple thing and have lots and lots of inspirations which resulted in lots and lots of memories--colourful, interesting, funny, precious memories. I know it's still there, but maybe it just needs to wake up.

Growing up takes up too much time. People say time is what you give yourself. I agree, I know. But being a kid and having nothing else to do but study and play gives you more time than enough. I know that now. Growing up brings more responsibilities and jobs that take up more time. Time is no longer what it was. Now, to read a book, I have to take the risk that I might not finish my homework today, or tomorrow's test will be a disaster.

People used to say growing up helps you learn more things, to learn more about what you are, where you belong, what makes you tick and what makes you fume. Learn more about how the world works, how everything in earth goes the way it is. The truth is, Yes, I do learn all that--and I love it all--but what's the price? I know I don't have to give up anything I've learned and loved, but something's gotta give. Something's gotta make place for the new things coming in. I'm only human; not a bottomless pit.

Growing up. I don't even know why I wanted it in the first place. I guess everyone just wants what they cannot have.

So I'm learning to stand again. Not actually standing, but stand for those I love. Stand against the current of events sweeping away these things I love. I don't want them to leave me. I don't want them to go away. To keep this part of me close at heart--my new year resolution.

AND yeah, I'm blabbing nonsense again. Shut up, Wart.

P.s. Goodbye February. It was nice meeting you, especially your elusive end. :)