I Was Afraid

I stopped writing because I was afraid. I was afraid of how I was portraying myself. I stopped writing in this blog because I found myself to be so depressing. Even when I wrote things that were intended to be positive and lighthearted friends would ask, "Kenneth, why do you sound so sad?" It would catch me by surprise or confusion because I thought I was happy. I thought that I had masked over the tinge of sadness quite well. However, the more light I shined upon myself, the greater the shadows seemed. The more inevitable and prominent it became.

I tried to escape my own mind by stopping the narration of certain aspects of my life. I thought that the negativity was perpetuated by my writing and its ability to recapture and dwell on fleeting memories... memories of bliss but also of pain. I believed that this blog, this area, this "thing" that has become an outlet for certain parts of my mind and heart had become stained. I saw it as a canvas that had become mistakenly stained by a pitiful darkness within myself.  It became an apparition of my mind outside of my mind, therefore taking a life of its own. From this, it held a gentle grasp on me, to hold me where I was and to keep me writing of sorrows that allowed such an entity to exist.

I believed that if I walked away from this, my sadness wouldn't be such a threat, such a prominent figure in my life. I thought that if I started with a new canvas to write and perceive myself, I could steer it from gaining the same pattern as this blog had. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It didn't matter where I went or how I wrote, the sadness was still there. By walking away and shrouding over different fragments of my life, I neglected myself as a whole. Yes, I get sad. Sure, I get lonely. Certainly, I can be contemptuous. These things are me along with introspective, passionate, compassionate, intelligent, and progressive.

Life isn't as simple black or white, neither is one's soul. What I'm saying is that I've returned. I've come back with an improved perception of self. I admit to being imperfect, but I still see the life I live and my humanity as beautiful. What I must do is live with a heavy heart and mind... a heart heavy with emotions and a mind heavy with thoughts and curiosity that validate my status as a free-willed being.

Why Do I Write?

 To start off, I might as well be honest with myself and say that the idea of an audience had always motivated my writing. In the past, knowing/believing that someone, stranger or acquaintance, could be reading my writing motivated me to write blog posts and whatnot. Thinking back on it, I don't really know if I had ever actually written solely for myself. I started this blog to tackle that specific dilemma; I started this blog in hopes of finding a muse within myself. I believe that the most genuine writing, the words that have the clearest and strongest expression of ideas/emotions are those written for ourselves.

In the past, my writings were influenced by those around me. I wrote with a specific emphasis on certain ideas in order to reach out to certain people, while there were also times where I kept myself from expressing certain ideas in order to appease others. Even some of my most controversial writings were written to elicit a specific response from someone external to myself. Perhaps all writing is written for that purpose? I truly do wonder if it is possible to write just for personal self-reflection. Is it possible for me, specifically? Well, I guess that's the goal I'm trying to achieve here.


I want to write for myself, unhindered by the influence of others. I want to write for the purpose of possibly looking back and seeing how far or how much I've progressed. I want to qualitatively compare my growth as a person from the point of writing this to the time in the future when I'm reading this. I recently told a friend of mine about this blog, he's the only one that currently knows about it. Now, I wonder if the idea of him knowing about this blog will impose some sort of influence on me. Well, come to think of it, I do remember acknowledging this dilemma before I even told him. I told him that he can read it as long as he promises never to discuss or share his opinions with me concerning this blog. I guess I should leave it at that. Sometimes knowing that someone else could be listening is nice.

After I found out that I can actually get my blog printed into a hard-copy book, I felt as if perhaps my motives inevitably changed. Now, I also question as to whether I'm truly writing for the sake of self-fulfillment or if I'm writing in order to fill up pages of a book. Perhaps I'm just over-thinking it, since being encouraged by the idea of having written a book of my own personal thoughts isn't necessarily a bad thing. I guess acknowledging the problematic possibility of writing just for the sake of filling up pages solved the problem in itself. Now, I can consciously direct my attention to the reasons I want to have for writing: self-reflection and growth.

Where to go on from here? Who knows, but I'll keep on writing. I just needed to address certain thoughts that I believed might hinder me from continuing this blog. That's not the case, fortunately. I'll keep on writing, for the sake of writing, whatever my writing's intentions may be.