If I am to count the times writing has saved me from myself then this post, which I intent to maintain at five paragraphs will be lengthy. Besides, such intriguing life stories are the reserves of a writer’s journal. When I’ll be old and grey, and I sense that life’s checkout counter is nigh, I will turn them into an autobiography. May life bestow upon me longevity. At the moment they will remain within the pages of my journal to remind me of the joy in the pain of being a writer. Just for today you will have the privilege of peeking on one page.

                                                                       11thJan, 2019.

If I try to explain, will you understand?  Most of the times I will fail to find the proper words, because I am too sensitive to them, because a writer should be. I will fumble and uncomfortably look away; will you stand the intimidating silence?  When my heart is overburdened, and my spirit is empty, and I really want to talk about my worries, I do come to your place; to hear you story and laugh. Can’t you see my smile forced and broken?  

You will tell me how great your day has been, and that you fear tomorrow things might be different. And I will look you in the eyes and assure you, “Happiness lasts as long as you want.” But, can’t you see my wisdom flawed and that my courage’s feigned? The weights of my worries have burned my heart for long. I must put them down. It has been my desire that I could find assurance in you, however, our journey together has just begun. And as such, it would be inappropriate that I pour my heart in your presence.

I am at the crossroads. The point in life when the high moments clashes intensely with the lows of life. The point of great uncertainty. The point where, without caution, a miss-step is highly likely to result to a spiral roll down the wrong path. Today I woke up and subjected my consciousness to reason, and in an instance, I realized how in vain my struggles are. I diagnosed the core of my principles and in them I found illogicality. For where is the fun in doing good?

What makes an upright man? Respect? That, now as the world disguise arrogance as toughness, the upright man should simply abide by the consequences of his uncommon choice. Honesty? When falsehood and corrupt deals are, now more than ever, appealing. Commitment? Or, perhaps persistence? Surely, let us be reasonable and admit that there isn’t any compelling reason that ought to keep an upright man on abandoned path!

Today allow me to calm my anxious heart on these pages of my journal. One day, when you shall have become a part of me, and I apart of you, I will read this page to you. I am forever grateful for your genuine friendship.

©writerdismas