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I’ve been running away from writing for weeks now. In my previous entries, I was telling about how much I had wanted to go back to writing, but after a little while, I was nowhere in sight again. I’ve been avoiding writing as if it’s some kind of plague. Not that I lack the time because I actually have plenty of it. It wasn’t also a writer’s block, definitely not. Neither did my appetite for public writing die out.

Maybe, because I was pretty sure that I would just madden myself by filling my entries up with stories about annoying people, things, and what-have-yous; or maybe, I was just stopping myself from further ruminations while I write, because in the end I would just realize what a wasted man I am; or maybe, I was just musing on whether I should go back to livejournal for the one silly reason that I miss those delightful emoticons, or transfer to wordpress cause it breathes some classiness and style for me, or just stay for the my old entries’ sake even if blogspot’s already boring me.

Or maybe, because of all these reasons. Oh, kill me. I am over-analyzing again. Whatever the reason of my sudden, and over again and again halt is, I’m happy that writing this f*cked up entry has somewhat made my day. Talk about writing as therapeutic.

Whether the red light has shut down for good or not, I cannot tell and I cannot promise. But while the green light is brightly flashing, then I wish to be charged of over speeding.