I actually haven't blogged in years.

My last attempt in writing a personal blog was last 2012, and back then that was a very pain-filled post that I do not wish to look back on. But I'm someone who sometimes just needs to put her thoughts and feelings into one cohesive piece of writing, even if no one bothers to read or to listen, even if no one cares.

It's because I was once a child who was fascinated with how words could express all the things running through our minds, and admittedly, these words are probably the only thing keeping me alive right now. I've been reading so much these days, enjoying the occasional chuckle over the stupidest of things that happen in fics. Rarely, there are times I shed tears upon reading beautifully written masterpieces that hold character experiences that echo real life in all its unadulterated truth.

For those who are unaware, I am someone who lives, breathes, eats and drinks angst to keep myself alive, to assure myself I can still feel. I'm sure some of my friends would actually like to force feed me fluff and crack just so that I'd start writing those genres lol. But even then, sometimes angst doesn't even feel as painful as it is supposed to be. I realized that sometimes even tragedies like character death don't make me shed tears, moreso if I dislike the character, but it is always, always the denial, and then the acceptance, of those who are left behind, that gets me in a sobbing and hysterically whimpering fit.

It pretty much echoes the things that are happening in my sad, mundane life. I am one who forever craves closure from a recent experience with someone I used to love, and sometimes I cannot help but feel that the acceptance mirrored in those pieces that I read mirror my own feelings towards closure. I cry, not because it hurts, but because deep inside I am glad to see that character finally get that closure after being left behind.

I am first and foremost, a reader, and I pride myself on being one. I like to think I am a writer too, that I can utilize this gift with words that I have, to weave the most painfully mundane yet beautiful stories that echo what happens in life. I'm pretty much a slice of life and angst writer. And I realized.... This will get me nowhere near my dream to be a published author.

Slice of life stories aren't very marketable, I noticed. The public will always demand pieces that deal with romance, drama -- anything that can tug at their heartstrings because they're very relateable. Even more people shy away from angst because they can't handle it, and sometimes I just wonder why, because angst echoes reality, of stories that could have happened to anyone. It briefly makes me wonder if some people read because they want to stay grounded in their suspended reality of their perception of a perfect life -- no hurt, no pain, only happiness that seems so trivial and would never last as long.

I'm not even making much sense right now, am I?

I think it's just the frustrated writer in me talking. There's so much I want to write, so many stories I need to tell, but I can never find the inspiration to put these thoughts into words.

How do I get out of this hellhole called writer's block?

Oh well. Hello, there, AFF friends. I hope you enjoyed my first and utterly nonsensical blog post on AFF. Let's be friends on twitter as well? :) @timelessnotes ♥