This feels like a weirdly formal way to begin, considering we’ve talked about how I started watching GoT for the p*rn (we’re PG here), and that you saw me through my now mildly embarrassing Teen Wolf obsession. But it feels right. This is, after all, kind-of sort-of an open letter- you know those fancy things that everyone keeps writing to everyone else when their PR manager tells them their social media presence has become too low? – and I’m writing it to you. And it’s not because my PR person told me anything- since said person suffers fro the debilitating condition of non-existence- but because I have a confession to make.
I’m sure you’ve noticed my long absence from this blog- if you’ve ever followed me on any kind of social media account at all, you’ll probably know that I used to put up posts at least once a month as recently as six months back. Since then, however, things have got more and more difficult to keep up with.
To put it shortly, I’m exhausted. Mentally, and as result physically too, though you wouldn’t know it from my ever-mysteriously-shrinking clothes. I can’t think of anything. I can’t write. All I can really do is be- and even that is hard enough some times.
My inconsistent appearances on this blog and on those two babies of mine I love so very much- my blog’s Facebook page and my writer profile page– have pained me immensely, guilt and “Oh my god I miss them so much” being the primary feelings. Remember that summer project I talked about? My poor baby- my poor Bjorn has been lying alone and abandoned for more than two months now. And I’m … silent. Over the past nearly three months, I haven’t found a voice to say- well, anything at all. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say- I’m sure once I got past the big blank slab of my mind, there would’ve been plenty ferreting and burrowing and worming down there. It’s just that moving that slab is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s all just come to a stand still, and believe me, for someone used to writing and creating imaginary worlds just to stay alive, it’s been… well, difficult.
I guess you could say I’ve been on an unannounced and unofficial break, which I’m announcing and making official now.
And that, dear reader, is where you come in.
It’s taken me a long time to accept that I was on a break, that I needed to tell you and not leaving you hanging, that I owed you that. It’s taken me time to accept that I also needed it for myself. A few days back I was talking to my dad, and he asked me why I was so afraid of all of this- if I loved it, if I do it for love, then surely it should be natural for me, easy as breathing.
And he was right. It shouldn’t be this hard- I shouldn’t be trying this hard, and being so afraid when all that pressure inevitably had the exact opposite effect. I shouldn’t be stressed out when all those other bits of my life stopped me from writing, because I know it’s always waiting there for me to come back home. I shouldn’t be so afraid of you.
And so, dear reader, my request to you is this- just… let me steal a chance to breathe.
Let me steal, from our time together on C’est la vie, the allowance of the weeks I need to recover, replenish my reservoirs with the ocean of thought.
It’s not really like I’d like you to build a shrine for me and worship me while I heal- although, if you did, I assure you I wouldn’t mind *hair toss*. It’s just… I hope you’ll be there when I get back. Ups and downs are part of life, right? And this is life. These bouts of fears and insecurities and brain-droughts, they’re part of who I am, and I’m sure of who you are too. C’est la vie.
End of July is when I’m looking to be back, with all my imagination polished bright and new after a brain-holiday of sorts. I’ll just read and listen to music and watch films and obsess over stuff, and then read some more. There’s a glimmer of light on the horizon. I have recently discovered the Beatles (re: obsession), and we all know by now how my recent discoveries invariably end up in the annals of C’est la vie. And you’ll be on a holiday too! You’ll be cruising on the beaches or the mountains or a village somewhere- or possibly on your own bed- lounging about all day with nothing to worry about but which show to binge-watch next. It’ll be well-deserved and beautiful for both of us.
And then, fresh and renewed, we’ll be back on C’est la vie on 31st July to celebrate the rest of this crazy, awesome, beautiful life, together.
See you. xx
PS- you know what, on second thoughts, just, like, go ahead and build that shrine. It’d be good for my ego. Toodles.