Back...for good?

Reading Fabian's post about his friend made me realize that I haven't been doing any sort of writing in quite a while; and I don't mean essays for General Paper because that does nothing for me. I've long forgotten how it's like to get that sense of satisfaction when you finish a piece of writing that you want to write, a feeling I've often derived from my narrative essays in the past, but now extinguished all together.

While I agree that most blogs serve little purpose in enhancing the intelligence of its fellow readers in any way, I doubt I'll be able to steer clear of topics revolving around Me. Capitalized m for that - I practise what I preach. All humans are innately selfish..no exceptions. Although, I needn't worry about that should I, since my very last post was in October. Looking back, the oldest entry I have on this little space on the cyberweb actually dates back to 2009, and could have extended much earlier if I hadn't deleted my even older blog then.

Back to writing narratives: I guess you could say it was some sort of platform for me to be a pseudo-writer for the day(or longer if I wanted to research about its topic), and, I must admit, my essays always seem much better than what I imagine them to be. I presume it's due to the vivid images in my head I try so hard to convey, hoping they piece themselves together into a colourful story and mesmerize you into their tale; but alas, words often fail me and I guess those aren't exceptions.
But that was never the point.
While my vocabulary was never of a range fancy enough to achieve what I wanted, I've always believed in what I wrote - not in a moral sense, but the sincerity I felt when writing them. Mrs Ng had always been strict in her marks - a 23/30 was my personal goal. An A. (And here proves my other belief: all of us have an innate desire for approval by others). Getting a 24 was even more difficult, but oh-so terribly rewarding.
I remember feeling really upset on the last English lesson we had. Maybe it was the only time when a teacher could get the briefest of glances into the works of my mind, like the random musings and twisted story lines I come up with. I still recall the exact words she said to me when I told her I would miss her: "I'll miss reading your lovely compositions."
I'm not a brilliant writer, which is why it matters all the more knowing that someone else enjoys your brainchild, which, in all senses of the world, are rather substandard.

By now, I'm pretty sure I've strayed off the course of what I had initially intended to write, but no matter; for it was the writing in itself that made me feel just the slightest bit more fulfilled.

I'll probably post about what's been floating about in my mind (which, I have now come to realize, is quite a substantial bunch of...interesting jibberish) in time to come, and if this blog happens to receive any traffic, I'd probably make it private. For myself.

That is all.