I’ve reached the finale of my wordless famine.
I’ll start at the end.
Due to complete carelessness… I lost my prior blog. It’s as simple as, I somehow neglected to update my payment account with my new debit card. I missed the email that my auto renewal wouldn’t process, due to my card not working.
I found out by the disappearance of my webpage.
My heart thumped into a silent panic within myself- I couldn’t accept it.
I never knew this could ever happen- I never imagined this would happen. I “assumed” I could just repurchase my Hosting account and everything would magically reappear. Yes, just like an unrealistic climax to a make believe movie adaptation, that would never exist in real world endings. My ignorant assumption depleted me of the one thing I have invested myself entirely into.
I’ll never assume again, as long as I live.
My initial thoughts were, hell with this– never again. My entire site and all its contents- permanently vanished. Not only that, I didn’t save over half my writings anywhere else. An overwhelming sense of defeat overcame me and it felt as if I was frozen in time. I watched as my passionate desire to conceptualize the world around me, through my lust for words, drain from the tips of my hopeless fingers. My heart become estranged from my mind and I felt utterly alone, completely empty handed from any words to convey.
This was a life lesson I did not want to learn, so I abandon myself.
I remained in that state, until now.
This marked another technological reliant scar, as this became the second time technology failed me and I lost most my writings. I wasn’t prepared for such a devastation, but I can only blame myself for this. Spare me the sword of asking why I didn’t save them, as I already asked myself a hundred times.
I have no logical justification or reasoning.
My trust fell into the code of a hidden language tangled into a foreign web, beneath the surface of an impermanent host. Depend on nothing that you are unable hold in the palm of your hands or fit into your pocket.
But too late… for this one.
A part of myself … simply died.
I couldn’t write anymore and I escaped from any thoughts or feelings pertaining to its loss. Propelling them to the furthest point of ever allowing myself to swallow my impenetrable mistake and digest it.
I’d rather consume a thousand knives.
The void pecked at me in every silent moment I attempted to gather my thoughts.
I started to feel like an unclean sponge, soaking in life’s moments without a release. All the beauty, scummy residue, and chaos clumped together like an unfiltered disaster.
I misplaced myself.
All the while, I intentionally kept myself from the one thing that brought me solace, my forever companion, my place in feeling free to be me, and where I truly felt at whole within myself. Although, eventually, I gripped on the reality of the situation and stripped myself bare to compel myself to write and begin again.
Oh how I have missed collecting my thoughts into a sensible ramble.
Here we meet again.
At this point, I’ve concluded that I have two options: to continuously escape myself and feel uncollected as I mope into self pity and do nothing, or I can turn this around to find a sense of renewal, and accept this as a mere cleanse of my murky past.
I chose the latter.
I’ll pick up where I am today and never speak of this loss again.
It’s time to accept the ghost of my diminished past and unleash the perseverance of my untold future.