Tuesday, June 26, 2012


Sometimes I wonder if inspiration comes in limited quantities. Is it possible to use up everything? It is a long time since I wrote inspired by something. Those times when I know by instinct what follows what. It's as if my pot of inspiration is empty nowadays. Read a nice post today . It was from a personal blog and was quite honest. I wonder when was the last time I wrote so honestly.

Why do I write? For whom?

Is it for the perks in my stats , or so that Google can pick my blog when someone types a keyword.Is it for the future me or my kids to read or is it for my relatives. Is it for people i don't know to share something of my place, of my culture. Or is it for my mind to vent stress and my heart to find friends.

No longer do I write to stay in touch with writing . No longer is there a dream of publishing a book. Then why do I still write? Why do I spend hours in front of this blank page?

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