Writing to you gives me company

Lately, I haven't been as enthusiastic about blogging simply because I've had several storms of doubts about my writing. I started to ask myself, "Why am I writing?" Is this writing getting me anywhere, or is it simply an luxurious pastime. I guess it must have been another gust of melancholy that had overcame me. As a result, I withdrew into my shell and began to write for myself again, i.e. only my moleskin was allowed to access my inner most thoughts.

After exams, I would pack Naguib Mahfouz's Palace Walk, bike to Para Coffee (a cafe on The Corner) and sit by the window to read and write. The window shed sun rays that consoled me with warmth. In the midst of the cafe's commotion, I would sit at peace with myself. That is when introspection would take over me. I would leave this world to visit the world of my mind. What an intriguing world that is!

My imagination would span everything from films, books, music, photographs, conversations, emotions, and dreams. This was a time for my pen to roam freely across the page. No rules, no stress, no expectation...nothing but the freewill.

But I needed inspiration to write so freely. The cafe's environment would profoundly affect my mood. Without the cafe, the free writer in me ceased to exist.

So here I set on my desk, finding no inspiration in my apartment. In the cafe, I wasn't lonely. I shared my environment with others; the espresso machine, the cute waitress, the whistle of the kettle, the ironic photograph of a smiling Guatemalan coffee-grower, my good-cupa-tea, and of course my moleskin and pen. They proved to be good company. But here I sit at home with nothing but emptiness everywhere.

This is why I reach out to you, dear reader. Whoever you may be and wherever you are in this planet. Writing to you gives me company.