Sometimes I wonder about my life, I live a small life; mostly a self communing life, I wonder if I died tomorrow will someone mourn me....I know some would. But what kind of a life have I lead?

I wanted my life to have meaning. A few weeks ago, I read the news about someone's death, someone I really admired. It got me thinking, he meant so much to me even if he was a celebrity, I felt liberated watching his celebrated travel show, through him I was able to do things I wish I could and see lands I have yearned to see since the time I was little. I don't understand why reading about his death affected me so. He was after all a complete stranger, the persona he had created for himself tragically consumed him. But I have also found myself sympathizing, I do know what it is like to be consumed by dark thoughts, I understand the wave of melancholy that can suddenly hit out of the blue, and the control it takes to present a decent face to society.

I recently disgraced myself by giving in to my weakness, I showed emotion in public, something that I have been taught never to do, I wish I could take back my loss of dignity but alas, it is too late. I now feel like the walls are closing in on me. I just had to write it all down and expect that I shall recover, you see I have found that the true test of character is to be able to pick oneself up after a fall. 

I know, that this particular blog is not the upbeat post readers expect of me but for the time being I need the salvation that writing brings me in expressing my thoughts. In some ways it gives me the feeling of standing alone in a vast forest screaming at the top of my lungs. It makes me feel like I can express on the page what I can never do in life.