I have always considered myself as a talkative person. And my favorite time pass is to make up stories. And chat endlessly with whoever is available. But that needs audience. And I don’t get one after 11 am. Folks around me are punctual when it comes to sleep, you see. So I talk to myself – in a way.
When I can’t sleep, I create make-believe places. I then add characters with relationships, background, concerns.
When I am asleep, my sub-conscious mind does the same thing. I hardly ever have dreamless sleep. I make short movies in my dreams. Often social, sometimes romantic, occasionally horror too.
Frequent introspection is in my nature. And it tells me that I am habituated to share my feelings. Ever since high school I used to write diaries for all the emotions, all the occasions, all the situations – extremely happy, terribly sad, massively infuriated. For various reasons, it stopped about 2 years ago, and depression started to dominate me. After much consideration, I thought I better do that again. But nowadays, writing diary seems such old fashion, and… well tedious. Alright, I will write blogs. True, I seldom had the courage or willingness to share my feelings with others, but I am hoping even if people do stumble upon my blog, it wouldn’t be so bad.