Inspired to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard)

The last journey I made here, was 3 months and 21 days ago. I visit scores of blogs written by prettily dolled-up ladies, but I never bothered to come to mine because, well, just because.

I think when you start to marvel at the beauty of others, and wonder why or how they got so picture perfect, you start creating this host of insecurities for yourself. It's been argued to its death that beauty was never meant to be skin deep, yadda yadda yadda, but you know what, it was never that easy to love yourself. Lo and behold, what a revelation.

It isn't easy to love yourself, but the random acts of kindness and love from others,
... like a friend who loves you for a hug
... like a father who loves you for your smile
... like a boyfriend who loves you for your laughter
... like a dog who loves you for your embrace

Sometimes tells you just how you've touched their soul, in ways you never knew. This isn't meant to fan your own self-aggrandizement, it's meant to inform you that you have one more starting point to start loving yourself.

I started this blog, really shy. I used to proudly proclaim to the very, very few friends I shared my blog link with, that I started this blog simply because I wanted a space to share my personal thoughts, and it was never meant to be shared with a lot of people. Only those whom I knew, and I trusted; trusted enough not to make fun of me for the things I said.

But just this morning, I got inspired by someone I met briefly during my college days. We were never in the same class, nor the same club, and truth be told, I do not even remember how we met. The thing is, I never forgot this person because he sent me a very special vibe. He was nothing like the college guys most of us know; boisterous, tongue-in-cheek, flirtatious and always trying to score brownie points, he was not. He was quiet, and simple. And he had this mystical air that was frustratingly disquieting at times because I never quite knew how to approach him and talk to him, though I badly wanted to. Don't get me wrong, I was never in love. But I've always been intrigued by people from whom I get a sense that they're much deeper than what they portray. Yet, it isn't simply a facade, but a veil at an attempt to hide something vulnerable inside.

I visited his blog this morning, and I just got inspired to write again. I just started year 3 of university, and the favourite word that I've coined for myself would probably be "busy". This "perfect-excuse" of a word has been peppered in the responses of people who ask me how I am doing. Busy, busy, busy. Spare some time for a dinner? Sure, when I'm less busy. But I never get around to it, and I ameliorate my guilt by deluding myself with the fact that, hey, they could have asked again when I was less busy, but they didn't. Someone tell me the flaw in my argument, because (apparently) I can't see it myself.

I always claim I'm busy, but so many a times, when I'm taking a break from my work, all I do is surf Facebook until I'm dizzy from all the pretty pictures of friends (of friends of friends) partying through the night and browse blogs of others who rave about the newest set of gelish nails that they just had. I lead a very different lifestyle, I don't party, and I don't like my nails done up (because it prevents me from going about my life as normal since everything I do, I worry about whether an action will chip some precious paint off my nails).

So, I've decided, I'm going to start writing again. I hope I have the tenacity to continue. For those friends who used to come to this space to connect with me, I'm renewing that special bond. I'm sorry I got so lazy the past year.

I don't think I write well, and my boyfriend often tells me my reasoning has some serious flaw (so serious he offers me wry smiles for responses), but hopefully, my musings reflect something that we have in common, a fiber that allows us to connect.