Of sadness and prose

Last week, I finally had the time to clean my room and to arrange some stuff.

Then I found my journal way back 2008. It was my most treasured, lovely journal. It has amazing stories, both happy and depressing, some I could vividly remember, some I've already forgotten.

I had a good laugh at the stories I wrote there. I remembered how I easily get sad those days, of how music and writing poems were a big part of that time. And suddenly, I missed writing.

Those were the days that I would opt to write on a notebook everything that's running in my head. I would write my ideas down, or anything that struck my mind, or feelings that I wanted to blurt out, which most of the time were written in prose. I felt good to have read those poems again, to remember how I played with words, how they rhyme and how the combination of words gave meanings. And it always feels good how sadness is so easy to appreciate and understand when written in rhyme, how it sounds so beautiful even when it expresses hopelessness. And how each poem means differently to every reader of it. How I missed it.

I will try to write again, definitely.