Opening the Attic

I was idly browsing online when I decided to visit my Friendster page. Like opening the attic (or bodega) and discovering your parent's old stuff, I came across my old blog and read what I wrote. Fast forward 3 years after and I sat amazed that it's been that long but still felt like yesterday.

I wrote a falling out article with D and I wrote another one although I'm not sure for whom. In both cases, I was not at my happiest. I noticed I wrote mostly of heartaches but not of the light regular stuff. I suppose it can't be helped: my heightened emotions at these moments encourages me to write and put into perspective, or make sense, whatever it was that was happening at that time.

I imagine myself 5 years from now and getting a kick again from reading what's happened and how I may have felt. Reading through these again convinces me that everybody should keep a blog, or keep a journal at least--because one can never really tell how it may feel once you read them again. Like right now. I'm won't say how or why but going through them made me feel just a tad smug.

image from here