and.then.again.

              i guess whoever said that to understand better one's gotta talk less and listen more has a point. a politically correct one at that. point aknowledged and that's exactly what i have been doing. i have not been totally out of the circuit, just trying to live by that argument. i have not been writing but i have been here, lurking. i never thought i had it in me, the potentials of a stalker, but merely reading and observing has its rewards.
              words have been pouring forth to be written but i had to retrain myself, i just sat there biting my tongue, to see to what ends this would bring me. and the few scars my teeth left on my palate has been worth it. i am now writing both because i believe the things i've seen are enough to give me a sense of balance-for now- and because i could not take it any longer. i guess the things that would be bursting from me from this point forward would not be in any particular way different, just a bit varied, with different facets that for  a while i have chosen to ignore. i am bit regretful that the one thing that has lent me temporary escape from life's insanity has been compromised to submit to my overwhleming emotions of the past year. i still cannot say this will not happen again. but the silence i've implemented on my pen has served as a conscious nag, not to let my letters delve alone into the darkened pit of a life that's quite been semi-charmed.
               i thought before that as long as i let my emotions flow through my hands and into this journal, i would be able to seep it out of my system until none remains for me to feel. again, i thought wrong.
               but i guess each one who writes go thru that irrational phase, when nothing else is worth discussing but the pain one is feeling, or am i guessing wrong here? a cuss and a diss here and there are not really that bad. but those days when one starts and ends each sentence with the same sentiment of hopelessness and anguish, is just…well, unwise. and yes, at some point in that phase, listening is better than talking, or in this case reading helps more than writing.
               i am not over the hopelessness yet. nor the anguish. but i would very much like to believe i am over that phase. i've missed this, and i would like to come back. so with my fingers crossed, i am  again…weaving words…careful NOT to start and end each sentence with the same sentiment of hopelessness and anguish.