I miss writing. Incredibly badly. It is not that I want to save the world through the words that I write - fat chance of that happening. I am not that altruistically driven. I am in fact very much materialistic. I never openly admit this because I don't think I am that materialistically different than the average urban professional faced with the pressures of looking good; yet someone just called me materialistic the other day and told me that it was a compliment. Right. I don't see what is so nice about that label.
Is it bad to want something more than what I currently have? It seems to be the recurring theme of my life that I always want something better. I always want a better thing, a shinier thing, it is almost as if I am perpetually working on the next big thing in my life. I don't compare myself to anybody, believe me, I don't play that game because I think it is pointless to me. I compare myself to, well, myself. I know that if I have made it this far, then surely I can do much better today. So when it seems to me that my life is rather slow, I have this itch to get out and do something profoundly breath-taking. I am ambitious that way. I think this is a good trait, so I am ok with it.
I blog in this blog because I want to write and I have deliberately kept it anonymous because I do not want anyone in my life to read this blog and find out that I have been writing about them. I share my thoughts with these people and I am pretty sure that some of them would have guessed that this is me if they come across the blog. I wonder if they appreciate that this is an outlet for my thoughts and my thoughts do evolve with time. I change them all the time, and I know that it is alright to do that. The world is a place that is constantly evolving, and accordingly, I want my thoughts to dance with it. This is what living is all about to me - to be able to think and put that down in writing, because there is nothing permanent about the thought itself. The next day, I could be thinking about the same subject that have different thoughts altogether.
But the internet is permanent.And people forget that thoughts are temporary. And that makes writing hard.
I have never dreamed about being a writer. Kind of the way I have never dreamed of being a doctor, and it happened. It appeared effortless, but there is nothing effortless about it. I guess I must have wanted it badly enough, subconsciously.
Just like I want to be a writer now.