A year ago today, I wrote my first little post on WordPress about the joys of Coke Zero. Beyond discovering an addiction, where was I then?
The night my Dad died, and after I saw him in the funeral home, I sat bathed in a grip of apathetic listlessness that surfaces at the onset of my heavier mental instabilities. I sat under the bright lights of the living room in a recliner moved to the exact place where his bed stood just that morning. I saw his wallet sitting on the table that sat next to his bed and grabbed it, slowly pulling things out of it.
It was a cold reality that he could no longer stop me.
I thumbed through various cards and old photographs of me. From a flap, I pulled out a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and read the URL to my very first blog that I started when I was 16.
Now, I’m here and I write for something intangible as that. I write to my friends, to my enemies, to my family, to myself… and I think that somehow, most importantly, I’m writing for some unknown purpose that only later will manifest itself. I do not concentrate on that outcome. In theory, I should not only be living to blog, but I should live as I blog.