So it’s been a while. I know. You don’t have to reiterate, you don’t have to even say, “welcome back.”

Things change. Feelings change. Fuck, even the weather changes like a sleepless bipolar kid on sugar. Last week, we’ve had bouts of rain, and then it miraculously stops, and then NOW, it’s raining like hell hath no fury. Oh, no way, Philippines. No more tomorrow for you. I’ll sick all them rabid raindrops before you can even say “I’m drowning.”

I had a little help. Wicked–or Wicky, as I lovingly call him–has an uber cool pen where you can doodle stuff on the monitor. So I was drawing something here and there, a little mouse movements there, and added a LOT of white space and voila. I had the colors on cmyk; mostly brown, cut down on other colors, stuck to the basics. Blue is still present–can’t let go of that. Brown is now my color. I cut down the site’s front page (such a waste of space anyway–too many things to update), and I’m minimizing it to four functional pages, one of which I’ll try my best to finish today, and one, I’m having a hard time finishing because it’s an “about” page and I’m not that vain. *coughs* Yeah, well, it will be about the site though.

So why, Jayce? Why wait three months?

I didn’t, actually. It’s just that sometimes, some things come as natural as they are–like silence, like stubborn attitude, like passing out after one Rhum coke and two days of lack of sleep, like bipolarity, like crazy moments, like depression. Yeah, you got the last one right. For a while, I was tired. I…didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to write. I wrote about things to someone, but I’m not sure where we are right now–if she’s angry, if she’s simply detached, or indifferent. I kept telling her I’d stop writing the moment our story ends. I told her it’d be soon.

But stories don’t end. Only new ones start. And this hopefully is the start for me. To write again everything that I am feeling–not just to her (which, I am so sorry–for being the recipient of all my angst), but to anyone willing to read, to comment, to share. Because I can’t keep shutting my words in my head. I can’t keep this sick routine of waking up and narrating my actions in my head like I’m blogging. Oh yes, I do that. I fucking do that all the time. And I keep saying, I’d write it down, but I never come to it anyway. I would say, “so I woke up with a huge pin on my forehead sticking me unto my bed–but it’s not the bed I find myself on, but on the floor. I blink several times, and I wonder what has happened the night before, but I know it’s useless; I have to let a few more minutes pass before I can think straight,” or something like that.

I want to be able to draw again using words. I want to be able to remember how I survived all these. I want to be able to learn from it when I look back.

And this time, I promise, it’ll be much more frequent than it used to be.

So, goodbye, Facebook. I’ll still be around, but your one liners killed my creativity.

I’ll see you around, everyone.

Love,
Jayce