back to december

All too often, I find myself browsing my archive and skimming through past entries. I salvage thoughts and ideas from inspired words but more than that, there is a certain pleasure in back reading. In spite of the occasional lapses in grammar which I stumble onto and the general tackiness of some entries which I cringe on, nostalgia is almost always a wonderful treat for a sentimental fool like me.

Like today, three Christmas seasons ago, I remember being heartbroken. Well, almost. I was in that sorry state where I know that the relationship's end is nigh. I drowned myself in the words of an Enrique Iglesias song, in alternate to Binx's sermons. I remember blog hopping that night. I remember stumbling onto online journals penned by alleged cyber celebrities. I was in awe. Their works were brilliant. Their sentiments and their words rang true (or so it seemed). It dawned on me that I needed the same – an outlet where I can say what I want to say, where I can be myself in my entirety - stripped. Today, three Christmas seasons ago, I promised to never hide what I really feel.

For a time, I kept my word. I wrote of sadness and despair. I wrote of plights and delights. I wrote of crushes and love not untainted. I wrote of everything; anything that I can think of, until recently when I started to think of it as a daunting task. Writing is a struggle against silence, I know. The thing is, I've been letting the silence beat the crap out of me these past few months. I guess I thought it was better to keep mum than let out the truth because, as cliché as it sounds, the truth can be hurtful not only to me but to everyone else that is involved. That's the last thing I want to do. Apparently, I thought wrongly, and I'm blaming it on the Cuervo.

This is why I have a thing for history – mine, yours, and everyone else's. Knowledge of the past is often a key to getting good insights to the present, and the future. When I look back, I see how much I have changed and what I have become. Don't get me wrong. Change is a good thing. It’s just that sometimes, I wonder if my old self is better.