Writing, Sleeplessness, and A Saying

On Writing. . .

Been reacquainting myself with my old love -- writing. I've been trying as much as I could to write anything that comes to my mind these past few days. I just bought a new journal and have been slowly filling some of its pages. I don't know why I've lost touch with the wanna-be writer in me. I have let a lot of things get in the way of writing even though my life is just one big routine. I've always told people that writing is one of the few constant things in my life, but it seems like I am slowly losing touch with the wanna-be writer in me.

I want to write again. Be free once again. But then again, the burden of what to write hinders me from writing again. The topic should be interesting so as not to waste my voyeurs precious time. The length should be just right so as not to hurt the eyes of those who care to read whatever entry I write. I want to write again. I need to write again. I need to breathe once again. I need to be free again. But how do I do just that? Here I am, once again, proving that I am one big irony.

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Sleepless in Canada

Insomnia is something that I would never want to wish upon someone even though I am mad as hell at them. I had been having a whole bunch of sleepless and listless nights these past few days. Insomnia is definitely kicking in.

The sleepless nights are taking its toll in me. A whole bunch of people at work just commented that I look tired and shitty. I want to rest my tired and weary body but I guess, the sandman keeps on forgetting to include me in his route during his trips at night. Hopefully tonight he'll come and sprinkle some of his magic sand on me. I need some rest and respite from all these routine. I need some sleep.

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A take on a Saying

Someone once said that: "Man is such an insatiable being." But I beg to disagree. I think by his own Man would be satisfied by what he have. Society, on the other hand, pushes everyone to be competitive -- to want more, to have the mentality of wanting things that are bigger and better. If man could only stop the habit of comparing themselves to other people, then maybe they can be satisfied by what they have. Being contented seems to be harder than having contempt. But then again, people say no man's an island. Ho-hum!

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I am Angel. . . trying to get reacquainted with an old flame.