A second first

Back in the day, I used to write on blogger, upload opinions, thoughts, personal stories, poetry, photography. Any means of expressing would suffice. One day I deleted my blog - and I sincerely regret my decision to do so. I wish I'd kept the little treasure I'd created during the period of over a year so I could go back to it, today and tomorrow and later still, at a time when I'm much older. I have a faint memory of how quirky and cute and honest it all had been; I genuinely enjoyed producing content. My life and self have changed and shifted. But some things stayed with me. The need to manifest, externalize all internal, is a loyal companion, and tonight, upon creating a new blog, a space clean and white and ready to be filled with typed colors, I feel it holding my hand tight. I want to walk side by side with myself and write here. Let this blog be proof I exist and have existed. Proof I live and have lived. I can't identify the urge, yet I will not resist it. Tonight. I feel lonely in my dark room and empowered through my palms and fingers and touched by hope that it'll all fall into place before I'm gone, or sooner even. Peace is all there is to look for.