Become so tired, so much more aware...
In over three years what I've recognized is how some patterns remain the same -- the ink fading a little over time, the paper it is printed on becomes wrinkled and worn -- yet those details aside, there is movement in a direction that makes you recreate the fading ink, even daring to reprint the whole thing, starting from scratch, or perhaps being even more daring and entering into the new age of technology and upgrading your archaic ways for something more tech savvy... all of these metaphors aside, it is a strange time to return to an old blog, filled with old wounds and raw tales, when the filter feels like it has been clogged and muddled. The waters are not as transparent as they once were, which is what created the censoring in the first place. It's been over three years when I chose to abandon this blog. I didn't know that I had anything else worth saying -- even to myself -- that warranted the clicking of keys and the red squiggly line of doom telling you that word