So much, so little

So much happened this week, but I feel like they are not worth to mention here. It’s work and working but not fun. Not everything meant to be fun but when you’re lack of it, you want one. I am sorting myself out to things that I want to share in this board. It doesn’t matter if there is no one read it, because the consideration is whether or not it’s worth to venting out.

I want to rant about something that I love to remember in the future. Something that bring positive nostalgia or a thin smile on my lips. There is part of me that refuse to see how “ugly” and desperate I am in the present when I look back. Yes, sometimes it can be good to see that I have come this far. To see that I am better off than the past.

Because of this self-sorting out, I write so little. I don’t feel so rich enough with “good materials”. I don’t need to write all the glossy and wonderful things, but it make me feel good to write something nice and warm to my heart. I think I know why I used to like to write poems; I was angry, full of negative energy, near crushing down and poems are the best channel. The monologue like this, no; too hard.