Sup3rnality

It bugs me that I don't write all that often anymore. If it was just here, it would not be so much of a problem, since this is only a mere medium to place screams that I would not otherwise vocalize. But the disurbing thought is that I don't even write in journals anymore; and I haven't for the past several years. Yes, I've jotted down thoughts here and there, but nothing subtantial or consistent enough to be called a journal. This bugs me.

If there's one thing I fear (besides the fear of Allah SWT, that is), is dying without having recorded all the thoughts and ideas that have run through my head. It scares me thinking that I could die tomorrow (again, yes, besides the fear of Allah SWT and doing enough rights in this world) and not leave behind all the words that went unspoken. I say more things in my head than in a voice that could be heard, and while I may not want the people around me to hear it at the time, I think there should be a record of what I really thought of the situation and for them to read what really went through my mind.

It may not be much, these things in my head; I have no delusions of being a philosopher of anything, but I do feel that there must be something to show for my existence, and this is how I do it. I find that my strength lies in how I put what I think into words, the way I think it and my point of view; and if I can't leave my mark that way, then I am just as well non-existent.

I hope I find in myself to write more than just when the urge strikes me. I hope my hand is never devoid of a pen to hurry along blue ink against my canvas to create blue swirls of words. I hope that there is incessant tapping on this keyboard daily to have proof of my living and existing.

Love, Lin~