Atmosphere, environment, and situations really affect the way you think and how you do the things that you love doing. That is what I've observed tonight.
I've been really pressured to put up something new on my personal blog recently. I just can't seem to "squeeze" out any fresh idea or something really original and not scripted. Scripted in such a way that I'm not just writing for the blogs to make me feel okay because there's a new post. It'll only be for the short term, if I do that. Because, posts that do not have a real connection with me are just like fillers. Like fake smiles that do not last. Like add-ons that you immediately forget after buying.
I've been through an upstair-downstair robot craze tonight and it really stresses me out. Technically, because I've just been through an accident and I've broken three of my left foot's weight-bearing bones. It's still not easy for me to go up and downstairs. I can only think to myself that they feel the way I feel being "pushed" around for some insensitive unimportant orders. It was really driving me to the brim of my humanly limits.
I went upstairs, after going through a stressful upstair-downstair errand mania, and some silent, serious thinking about a lot of things. I do think a lot -- I actually tend to think deviously -- when I feel really stressed out. Well now, I'm lucky enough to have a moment of peace and reflection. In fact, really fortunate to have the chance to bypass my fears of doing something and needing to do it out of fear. I'm talking about being able to express myself right now genuinely.
Things are much different now than it was maybe an hour ago or a few more. It's been long since I've stayed where I am right now -- alone in my converted-room-slash-bed, and silently & peacefully conversing with myself in a preserving way. I'm using the word 'preserve' because that is the way I treat The Day Writer. I treat it as a memorial of who I am throughout my ages.
I can only compare how the world I was in a few hours ago is a lot different than the isolated, protected incubator that I am in now. From there, I think I have decoded the reason behind my painful separation and break from being with my space, these sheets of intangible paper that I'm writing on.