It's been a few days and it seem like ages for me. (Thanks to my ancient laptop and uni's fantastic internet connection) I don't know why. Writing at least something almost everyday has become a habit instead. And the longer I dragged, the more I think, the more saturated my brain get, the more moody I became.
I guess writing is therapeutic for me. It allows me to release myself in a way that I can express what I want to say without having to think much and also having the chance to recite back or read back what I used to thought.
The sweet old innocent days.
It reflects a lot. In fact, it shows you a different you. Its like viewing yourself from an entirely different perspective. It's rather promising and productive. Self evaluating. Self describing. Self learning. Self experimenting. Whatever you named it. Just like the Pensieve in Harry Potter's world. And you wouldn't realize it at all if you didn't took that turn from the very beginning and view it from that particular angle.
Sometimes you get to see something that you never you would. Why.? Because its hard to look at the inner you when all you're doing is just staring back at your own image in front of a foggy glass trying to cover your weakness. But if your certain thoughts are represented in words, and with you approaching it like as an outsider, a stranger, you'll be surprise at what it actually looks like.
Sometimes I surprises myself by reading back my previous post and it occurs to me that why on earth did I wrote something like that.?
It's just another learning phase of our life. The life of your blog that's a part of your life. A great story full of your words. A great reflection of yours.
A mirror of you.