Sijo

I suddenly remembered learning something about the Sijo when I was in Korea. I had to google it to refresh my memory, but I thought I might as well give it a try. So here goes:

…

Inner demons assault my mind; I lie here drained of all hope

Yet there she is smiling at me; hard to believe yet there she is

Is this a dream or is it real? I stand up to find the truth

…

Coming Back

I stopped writing in my blog because I wasn't happy with the direction it was heading. My blog had multiple purposes: practice and improve my writing, a place where I can explore my creativity, a form of therapy where I can let out my feelings. It was supposed to be alive, vibrant and personal. I still remember my first post with fondness, not because it was a literary masterpiece, but because it so perfectly summed up my own feelings towards myself (although I've always wondered if everyone understood that the last line is supposed to be a hopeful message). However, it quickly went downhill after that, and what I wrote was dry and whiny and without really a lot of heart behind it. Maybe others will have a different opinion, but that was how I experienced it. Blogging became a chore, I hated what I was writing, and I just needed a long break away from it to clear my mind.

Somehow that long break ended up being five months. Five months is a long time, and yet so short. I will never understand where all the time has gone. Rarely a day passed by without me thinking what I could write about. Rarely a day passed by without me feeling guilty that I haven't written anything yet again. And rarely a day passed by without me realizing how much writing means to me. It felt like never ending agony, yet at the same time, those five months have flown by.

It seems the urge to write will remain a part of me till the day I die. And until then, no matter how long I have not written anything, I will always return to my notebook or my computer to make another half-assed attempt to tell my stories. It sounds so much like a curse when I put it that way. But during my better days, I like to think of it more as a blessing. In the end, this is really the only way I know how to express my feelings. I have written things which I have never said and never will in my life. Without it, I am afraid that I will completely shut off my feelings and turn into a bitter old man. Or that I will retreat further and further into my own world until I completely lose contact with the real world.

 

…sigh…

Why are the things we can't live without also always the hardest to live with…