Drafts are both a blessing and a sin. A blessing because I can write my thoughts out and never have to publish them publicly. A sin because they sit there, slowly filling up, never being said out loud. Forgotten thoughts and emotions.
As I re-read my posts from both WordPress and Tumblr, I recognize my last posts from my “high writing days” when I would post faithfully were in December of 2009. That was practically three years ago. So what happened? Did I become insanely busy? Did I hate writing all of a sudden? Alas, no, I just simply became to accumulate more drafts than posts.
I figured that because I have altered this blog so that it is private for the time-being, it might be nice (and possibly freeing) to go through my drafts and either delete or publish all of them. Reading through them, it’s quite interesting how my mind has worked for the past four years. Some posts are simply titles of songs or lyrics themselves. Others are commenting on my teenage angst, college problems, and even acknowledging these admissions. One of my posts actually said “this post is pointless”. Then again, the harshest critic is one’s self.
However, a few of these posts were actually very well-thought out and I would love to publish them, even if they’re not relatable today, to simply get the gears turning. One post asked about my intentions with this blog. Should I talk solely about my triumphs? About my failures and what I have gained from them? About my religion (as many of my peers tend to do)?
And then a handful are personal letters to myself or others. Those addressed to myself are encouraging notes persuading me to keep moving forward and reassuring that I deserve better. Others are to those who have impacted me greatly. These letters, regardless of when and in what state they were written in, are precious, and I will keep them in a separate designated page.
That’s about it for now. Going through my drafts and being able to publish some of them and delete others is quite the cathartic experience. So I guess I’m thankful that I keep some sort of written record these past four years.