Of my many addictions, writing was the one that stayed. Video games and cigarettes came and went, seemingly fluid-like and leaving not a dent or any reminder in my life. But my compulsion for writing, about anything and everything, sensible and otherwise, stuck with me like an awful song that played repeatedly in my head.
Oh yes, such a sweet addiction. To be powerful enough to create a reality you can shape, however briefly, and existing only in the mind. My blog is as pliable as clay, and I can shape it in any which way that is pleasing to me. Perhaps it is also an attempt to seize beauty as it happens in life- to paint with words the wonders that one sees, to expose truths, or to record flashes of brilliance in unsullied ideas, or simply bear witness to everyday dramas and insanities.
To the vengeful, writing can inflict to enemies as much damage as a regular pistol shot right to the heart. Terrible, but I am not innocent of such sin. Nevertheless my lack of courage and general flakiness prompts me to remove the literary assault shortly after it is done. (But not of course until after making sure that a certain amount of damage had been inflicted.)
Words, like swords, can be a thing of beauty as much as it is a thing of power. I love, I weep, I delight, I scream- each emotion stains my writing with vivid hues of purple, indigo and red: it becomes as unique as a Picasso abstract, and as powerful as a Goya black painting.
Each time I promise to quit blogging I turn into a liar shortly thereafter. Writing is as addictive as Morphine, and I need a shot everyday to dull the pain. I write to stay alive.
Or...
Ewan ko sa inyo pero KSP lang siguro talaga ako.
