The repeat

I never get tired of wielding a pen, though i do not dwell in writing about tragic heroic fictions. The other night, i read in a book, "Write; writing may give your heart relieve." I started scribbling away before i knew what i was about.

I am a person who believes in certain values in life, such as compassion, dignity, love, discipline, commitment and so on. The pitfalls of existence will highlight that these values are the basic which holds up life's true aspect. Sometimes, pitfalls are cruel, but without cruelty you cannot see yourself in the mirror.

When one losses something, it will seem appropriate to regain what is lost, not in a repaired way but restored entirely. This has been a great source of frustration to me and the reason why i have been attracted to religion. However, i do not find myself satisfied because i have been expecting a miracle. My expectations do not drive me crazy, as i am rational and it is precisely the rational expectations that will end in disappoinment. Who knows? There are no miracles in this world.

Nowadays the further i go from the crowd, the better i feel. I begin to appreciate the blessings of retreat. Distance is such a privilege, why do people fear solitude? In solitude the heart is at peace. Of course, my condition is very fragile and vulnerable. On this stage of life, anything is bound to change and any change can be alarming. But i have no urge to pour out my problems, only hoping to forget them quickly and return restored.

With this distance, will i be more clearly sighted or will i loose my ground? I do not know.This is the first time i'm writing without a public in mind. I am not obliged to write something to please the readers here.

Perhaps there are people out there indulgent enough to be reading what i have been scribbling?