flashback

every now and then, i look back on all my 

old writing as a form of visitation to the past.

i do it, sometimes, to remind myself of

all the things i've went through, good and bad.

or i do it, more often than not, to see whether or not my

demons of old still affect me in the same way that they used to..

it's a bit masochistic but it helps me to deal, helps me to be a little more

apathetic to the things that wounded or scarred me.

but mostly i do it to compare how much time

either changed me or kept me the same.

this morning, i entertained my urge to look into

an old wordpress account of mine, an account

i had actively written in during darker times and

freely used as a form of therapy and outlet

for my frustrations and..wait for it..heartbreak.

re-reading all the posts--public, private and password protected,

i was a little struck by the nakedness of my words.

raw emotions. so many strings of words put together

by everything i was feeling--pure and unfiltered.

it's quite amazing how all that was translated into writing.

i don't write as much as i should like to anymore,

and i feel that my writing would never be the same as it once was.

it makes perfect sense as to why that is--i'm not driven by

a slew of such passionate emotions and i've already come to terms

with the fact that i am a better writer when influenced by tragedy..

but i can't help but to wonder if that was something i just pigeon-holed myself in.