I am here in my room browsing this Blogger account I made a week ago. All is quiet and still. I can hear blood rushing in my head, ticking of the clock, and cars whooshing by the road.
It is funny how memory erodes. I am suddenly consumed by nostalgia for the college girl who was me, who loved the stationery sets and believed in love-with-happy-endings, who spent the nights out with friends, who could make people laugh with verbalizing weird stuffs in her mind, who cannot let a week passed without blogging.
Weblog has been my outlet for self-expression. I started way back in 2007.
It is not the minutiae of my everyday life. Rather, a portal that opens up my thoughts and feelings to my trusty friends - my multiply contacts. It gives me voice to things I am not prepared to say to someone's face. But it is now a dead blog. I haven’t updated it for about two years for I became busy when I had my trainings in nursing.
It is private wherein only my contacts can read my entries. So I thought of this - making a Blogger account - a hundred times. I am not sure the world would probably want to hear what I’ve got to say. But I really do love expressing myself through writing.
With Love,
Ariane
P.S.
I am surprised I was able to post my favorite blogs my sixteen-year-old-self has made with their real dates.
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