Last night, I was wondering that what was the last time I wrote my journal, an article, or something personal on my blog? It’s been too long and I think I do know the reason but don’t want to think over it. Stopping my hobby of writing is now spoiling me and I better start it again because only then can I look into myself, realize what I am doing and going through and also seek what I miss. I really need to give some time to myself just to know about the difference between right and wrong.
I stopped thinking about what happened in the past for it’s never worth my thoughts. I don’t think about the future because who knows what’s going to happen next. It’s the moment, the present, that’s what I live in. It’s good as well as bad because if I take the present serious, I might lose my own self which I don’t want to. Since the last few months, I stopped being myself and adopted some other role just to walk in the fast society. I don’t want it that way. I want to be me, for back then I was happy at least and never tried to be someone else.
People say, one should grow up and I say that one grows up himself with time so one should not think over this “growing-up” thing or else it will become a trauma. Growing up doesn’t mean to be an adult but mature and good enough to handle self with care.
Long time ago, I used to paint, write, blog, see new places, make people laugh, walk, play, take photos, love the nature, read, watch good things, and what not. I I used to think that I wasn’t alive but I actually was. Now I just work, sleep, eat and again work. This is not how it was supposed to be. I’ve lost the meaning of life, or say, I threw away my life. I don’t play, don’t go out, don’t walk, rarely read, hardly write and don’t like to laugh any more. I am afraid to see new places, I fear being lost in the way, I feel scared among new people, I’ve stopped making friends, I totally left the sports, and I don’t think about myself any more. If this is called growing up then I don’t want to grow up at all because it’s not who I am but what I am made. And what I always hated about humans was being made and wearing masks. I didn’t put on any mask though but whatever it is, I feel suffocated in it. I miss the innocence that I had in me, I’ve lost the strength that I was supposed to have just forever, I distracted myself from all the creative things that I adopted for it showed my real self. I miss the colors/paints I used to play with, I miss my sketch books, diaries, photographs and all the collages that I used to make, I miss writing funny notes/letters to my roommates and giving them stupid things just to make them laugh, I miss the credit I used to take for nothing, I miss playing monopoly and winning it with cheating, I miss going out for shopping with my roommates besides that I never really had a passion to shop for girly stuff, I miss the taunts I used to get from people while buying stupid things for myself, I miss the pranks I used to do with strangers and then laugh over it the whole time, I miss the game I used to play the most i.e. basketball and ending up with broken joints every time, I miss the time when I used to plan to buy a bicycle for myself just to have a race with my friends, and on the top of the list, I miss the time I spent with good people around me. I miss being me, I just miss being myself.