Do people write anymore?
I wonder.
I used to write to improve my linguistic skill.
Gone were the days when I tYpEd LiKe ThIs, or tried 2 type like thiz.
Gone were the days I typed long, difficult to read essays.
My past content reflects my growing up process.
It used to be mundane life stories.
Poor commentaries on TV shows or movies or bands I was into.
Then,
they turned into posts filled with angst over people who wronged me.
and eventually posts that were painful and emotional.
I read some of my old content –
The later sporadic ones that are in my draft inbox,
or published briefly but kept hidden after.
All the hurt – I can still feel them.
Some things never change.
They still cling onto you,
and gnaw at your heart.
You cry.
You think you would have grown out of those feelings.
But no, you just grow older.
Writing is a vulnerable exercise.
You share what is on your mind.
You are exposing yourself to the world and its judgment.
But I guess writing can be quite therapeutic.
Especially when you are bored out of your mind.
Stuck in the house.
In the middle of a global pandemic.
On the brink of insanity.
I should write more.
And read more.
