It’s been almost two months since I posted anything. Partly because I was busy and partly because I procrastinated.
I get my fix by writing. Even on days when nothing significant happens, I make it a point to write to my diary, for not writing for a day always costs me dear – the next day I have too many things to say. However, nowadays there are many things I don’t write in my diary, thinking I would keep those words to put them in some blog post or essay in the future, and as a result, many of my words have been lost. I do regret that, but there’s a lesson learned: I can always write my ideas in my diary and then refer to them anytime I want. (By the way, things always seem to fix themselves when I write about them, like they did in the previous sentence, and I call it magic.) Sometimes the things I’d forgotten come back to me, but at such times that I cannot note them down. The downsides of being a writer.
A lot of things (obviously) have happened during my absence from this blog. Mostly, the way I write my posts have changed – they’re more about my life than pieces about a single subject. I have thoughts that are not enough for a separate essay but short enough to go along with others and form a single post. I sometimes think where I want to take Scribblings of A Storyteller in the future. I would keep writing about my life and the little and big things, and maybe put in an essay or two at times. I think this is the time to experiment and try new things and copy others and somehow in all this mess, find my originality and my style and my words. I want to keep writing and never stop. I want words to plague me. It feels good.
There are so many things I have in my mind that I want to write about. I sometimes wish I would wake up in a completely lonely place in the wild with my notebook and fill every page in the notebook with all the things I want to write about by the time the sun sets. But unfortunately, every morning, I wake up to go to school.
There is one thing, however, that I’ve written quite a lot about in the last two months: it’s the friend who’s no longer so. For some days, it was only her who came to mind when I sat down to write, and I discovered that I still had words for her, that I wasn’t done with her yet. I’m still not. My writings about her are still around, and hopefully someday soon, I’ll gather them and put the important words together, and let go of her, something I’ve been struggling with.
However, my writing game has been going strong – I’ve written 50,299 words (as of today) since I started. After this month, I’ll raise my goal to 750 words per day and then 1,000 words. It has also been my longest writing streak so far – 80 days. I hope to maintain it until the end of my life (sounds impossible I know, but I can always hope). Meanwhile, I have my textbooks and new friends to keep me company.