I have blogged for 13 years. Not that it means much, when you think of the posts that I have published. Many folks have published more post is less than half the time that I have blogged.
But then, what is the metric to measure?
In terms of blogging, this has probably been the worst year of the 13. In terms of number of posts. But I have given up on trying to better the stats. 2016 has been a bad year.
I wonder why we attribute characters to years. 2016, a bad year. 2015 a good year and such. The year has no power to determine our lives.
I have read my posts the last two years and most of them are shite. Earlier, I was willing to talk of what I felt. I’ve mentioned of things that were bloggable. And I blogged them. And I wrote well. Of things that were bloggable. Years don’t have a positive or a negative sense. It is all our doing. And in 2016 I made adventurous mistakes. Plural. In making them, I learnt of expressing expression, talking of love, and, at times, not talking of love. To find myself, I had to lose myself. I discovered that not all friends are friends. Some of them are more than friends. I learnt that you can’t always be honest about your feelings. Mostly, because you often do not know exactly what you feel. I learnt that love is worth fighting for. That true love, is not obvious. You will discover it only as you falter.
Will 2017 be any different?
What’s one year after the other? Each year is only of more learning. There is no good year and a bad year. They are just years. Unemotional dates traversing a calendar. It’s us who push and pull emotions every day. Of loss and love. Of holding on and letting go.
To understand our limits, we have to exceed them; cross them. And we may hurt people around us. It is exploration for us, but it hurts them, when we expand; for curiosity. We may find our boundaries; or our boundaries may get handed to us; either way, we will know.
I have nothing to say about blogging other than it is cathartic. In time, I have discovered, we write for no one, but us; even if we write for others. Our posts are independent mirrors that reflect the times of specific feelings; posts, in our blog, are shards of our blog, the shards a composite of a mirror of self.
I’ll perhaps post more, this coming year. But, I do not promise.
Thank you, you all who have liked and commented on my posts. You are not forgotten. That small icon of you all, below the post, is the merry string of your love. It makes me happy.