i'm back.

these days i have nothing much to say to myself because i'm so used to stifling any thoughts. i'm not even sure how i feel about them, afraid, tired, jaded. i have no clue.

it feels like my emotions cycle through the same things over and over again that it's stale and wearisome for me to keep spouting the exact shit i don't wanna deal with. so i mute them like it's the news reporting on some faraway occurrence.

i long to feel... i think. but i know with that comes responsibility and righteousness and wanting more, and i'm exhausted. at 25. soon 26. really soon.

i'm listening to sinatra's my way. it reminds me of papali, and of simpler days. it reminds me of hope, that i can still be someone i want to. it's annoying.

 my life is very different now. almost unrecognisable.

i am married, working and not practicing.

i lied. i am the same. just worse. and better.

i'm not sure which.

i think this is the first time i'm writing... since my last ig post. i don't write. i don't create. i transform and mutate, never create. i am not sure if i still remember how to write what i think. this feels awkward. but also familiar.

it's probably irksome to hear this but i wanna write again. i'll try. i don't know how though, but i'll try to write.

these days, i'm scared to even read. it feels like my brain doesn't function anymore. i am not sure how to be, i just do though.

this post is meaningless, but i guess it's something. i'll try to come back, no, i promise.

see you again.