Lo and behold! I have returned from my extended absence. I apologise, but I’ve been rather busy traversing the rolling hillsides of distant lands and cultures, fraternising with creatures both big and small, and basking in the glorious majesty that is my existence. Naht. Perhaps I’ve been doing such things in my head, but the reality of my world has been a much starker and more sombre affair.
I’ve thought about returning to this blog a number of times. I can recall at least three occasions where I’ve begun to compose a piece, only to stop and scrap everything before the third sentence has been completed. Why? Well, to put it candidly, I think I’m full of shit. When I look back through the history of this blog, I’m astounded at the amount of posts that I’ve shared and how frequently I was writing. And it’s not as though I’ve exhausted my supply of stories and ideas – indeed, the well has been overflowing for some time – but, as I said before, I find little worth in my words. Moreover, who reads this stuff? Well, you, obviously. But that’s one, solitary person. What’s the point? What’s the point in devoting the time and the effort, labouring to ensure every paragraph, sentence and word is apt, for such little reward?
I know, I’m too impatient and cynical. Before writing that sentence, I perused the previous paragraph with the intention of amending and perfecting it. And then, almost instantaneously, my thoughts turned to futility and I considered scrapping the piece altogether. But where’s the progress in that? I mean, I can go two ways from here: I can quit and return to browsing YouTube and Reddit into the early hours of the morning, or I could head to bed knowing that I accomplished something – however insignificant it may be. Wow – just like that, I’m feeling a little more optimistic about things. Funny how a depressed mind functions, isn’t it?
Of course, this post isn’t anything special, but it’s a start. It’s incoherent, unsophisticated and tedious, but it’s raw. It’s something. And something is better than nothing, right? I guess the important thing to remember is that, at the crux of it all, I’m writing for me. I have nought to prove to anyone save myself. Baby steps, brother, baby steps.