I caught myself reading previous posts, and Heck! I felt cringe all over me.

The kind of feeling, when swamp of rats suddenly appeared out of nowhere, approached you in a parade troops, step by step. Trapped in a corner of a room, I am helpless & PANIC.

I’m so compulsive to delete some posts, but something put me at halt.

After all, this is wordpress. When I write stuff, I do it willingly with conscious mind ( sub conscious at times). It is nothing similar to twitter, where you just press the keyboard to drain out your emotion.

This space means a lot to me. I choose to write stuff. Or myself in yesterday decided to so.

Do delete the post, I feel like a betrayal to myself. 

Should we erase the past, just to be able to filter who I am today?

Like screening through all your history links, okay I selectively pick that, that & that. The rest should’ve been a mystery. It is vain to do that.


Writing is a purely lyrical process – at least to me. The composition comes suddenly  and  massive energy  is unexpected. The content isn’t necessary rich but I’m so content to write it down.

So, it’s purely by choice, untouched my past.

Being risk to BE CALLED an idiot, this is immeasurable bliss.

Novice – of a character named maturity.


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