Disjointed, United
“I miss your writing. Do you still write, anyway?”
The black text sat on my screen, as I rubbed my tired eyes from whiling away countless hours in front of my laptop. The message in my inbox was from an old friend, someone who had always been there to share a word or two on whatever drivel of writing I had to shove in their face. The question itself was amusing, to me, because only a few days before I had asked myself the same question. Being in this place, that was so familiar now, yet has changed so much has made writing seem that little bit farther away than it used to be. Really, I just let it slip too easily. I didn’t lean how to let it move with me. On the one hand, I gained freedom and mobility. On the other, I let some part of me stay behind, collect dust and linger until I had remembered that it was something I enjoyed, something he enjoyed. Something they enjoyed.
So much time spent on something so continuous. It wasn’t even one of those phases where the idea was fleetingly ‘cool,’ yet stopped after a couple of days. There was an attachment to it all, right down to the basic output of where it all lived. A few times I tried to continue the trend I started, elsewhere, disjointed from it all, but I could never bring myself to do the deed. Nothing felt right about the way it started. Where should it begin? Why shouldn’t it continue from where it once was left? And yet, it all came down to the fact that it just couldn’t compare. There was no familiarity, no personality. No matter what, I could not shake the feeling that I was still leaving it all behind. Everything about it felt half-assed and that was something which I could not tolerate, something which I felt was far from my style and ability.
It makes me wonder what took so long for me to get this far and realise exactly what it was I had been missing all this time. Sure, there were a lot more things involved now than used to exist in my life, but that just seams to be a ‘in the meantime’ excuse for leaving it all. So many things happened back when I made this a larger part of my life that I have become so detached from. People I had encountered, who I don’t even remember or recognise anymore. Things that were said that I struggle to remember their significance or relevance.
So here I sit, as I finally smile at my success of reviving the old, the lost, the forgotten. I am home. All together, nothing separated. Finally. I reply.
Yes, I still write.
You were provoked by Vittra at 11:14 pm | 7 opinions »
May 6th, 2008
Funny how we both realized just how much that space for the ‘drivel’ we write means so co-incidentally. Incidentally, I remembered because I happened on an old comment of yours on my blog – when you ‘found’ me again
Yes, I do have the bad habit of going back to read old posts.
Glad to see you back
May 15th, 2008
Vitt, it still says ourburts.
I’m only here to twist you, to boost your ego.
May 15th, 2008
I know that it still says outburts and for the longest time, I totally did not care. I somewhat enjoyed the fact that you were slightly irritated at the fact it wasn’t spelled correctly. Lets strike a deal: you do something about ‘Prick is God’ more often, I’ll do something about actually making things an outburst.
They affect us in the same way, if you think about it.
May 17th, 2008
At least Prick is God makes sense as compared to outburts. Even your god damn spell checker is giving it a red squiggly line.
Your spell checker denies you.
May 18th, 2008
My spell checker has learned not to talk back to me, or give me any cheek. Also, I am so old on the Internet, ‘outburts’ was written before spell check existed in Firefox.
You still haven’t done anything.
May 19th, 2008
Those last two lines are great. Welcome back to the fold. Glad we got the machine working again!
May 27th, 2008
What that’s it? Just this? You had better be working on something, though you’re just going to tell me “insert Vitt’s smart mouthing”.
Hello Jaxy. How you floatin’ Jaxy?