ºChaotic Harmonyº

 A friend has asked me recently if I am still writing and I had to admit that it’s been a while. Then I opened this blog and it’s been almost a year. Almost a year of so many things to happen, quite a few trips, lots of pictures taken, many emotions were felt and yet, still no writing. I like to say that I do not have time for it, when in fact, it’s not the time, it’s more the timing. The timing and the fact that it’s been a while my heart’s been broken.

I used to carry a notebook with me everywhere I went. So when a thought popped into my head I was able to write it down, put my words onto paper and now I don’t even own a notebook. So the thoughts pop in, pop out and by the time I am in front of the computer, they fade away like yesterday’s jam.

But the more real reason I am writing so sporadically these days, is because most of my writing came mostly from a broken heart. I do not consider myself an artist, but I do understand how so much art is full of pain, smells of heartache, is filled with tears and negative emotions. I guess this means I have been quite happy recently. And that should kindle some joy.

From the books:

“If you can love someone with your whole heart, even one person, then there's salvation in life. Even if you can't get together with that person.”

I miss my trips to the casino at the end of the world. I miss solo travels. I even miss the heartbreaks sometimes. Not in a sense that I would like to be hurt or that life only has meaning if I feel hurt, but I miss being able to express myself in writing more often than not.

“Don’t date a girl who travels. She’s the one with the messy hair, coloured by the sun. Her soul craves for new experiences and adventures”

I remember them sometimes. A strange detail of the day will bring the weirdest memory, something that has not been hidden, but was sitting in plain sight completely unnoticed for whatever reason, not even an important one, but completely forgotten. I like it. I used to like taking a walk down memory lane, where I would walk those corridors for hours, remembering the smell, the touch, the kiss or the conversation. It’s been a while since I took that tour and I guess it has missed me, because it likes to leave crumbs of them here and there for me to notice, for me to remember and smile. Because it’s never the bad memory, and even if it is a bad one, it doesn’t sting. I suppose this is why I always loved those “Before XXX” movies. It’s a shame they missed the window and did not create the 4th one.

From the movies:

“You know what's the worst thing about somebody breaking up with you? It's when you remember how little you thought about the people you broke up with and you realize that is how little they're thinking of you. You know, you'd like to think you're both in all this pain but they're just like "Hey, I'm glad you're gone".”