I read back my old blog yesterday, it begun on October 2008 and I somehow stopped on the June 2009. The posts there seemed to me like a journey; either way was a mix of great and mediocre or just down low moments. I missed how passionate I was about writing, my comfort was there all along in each of every post, I put my heart in all of them. Things written were inspiring like mad. And back then I opened up like a book like there was nothing I held up against anything. Carefree. I missed everything nowadays. How contented life was, how now I seem to forget of ways and things and jokes that would make me happy. I am happy but I feel as if something is missing, or am I the one who's missing out? I have not been productive at all cost. Since the wedding has been the only thing mattered (I mean it and not that I'm complaining) since months even before SPM, I got creeps of how useless I have been since then. Even I so am now. I do help a lot everyone assures that but I still do feel useless like I don't do things that I wanna do, that whim in heart tells me to do but I do not do because of the peculiar situation at the moment. I do think I'm making up reasons of not being happy wholly inside and out, I am making up reasons to crawl in bed, to sleep early because I don't feel like talking to anyone for I know I would spill beans or merely I would shut everything down and be all cheery- that happens almost all the time. I guess I am the one who's missing out of the world, of everyone. Because I couldn't care less anymore.

NOTE: This is what happens when you laugh so much even out of the stupidest things many nights in a row.

xx