This blog is now my last desperate means of self-expression. After having fallen into a pitiful mould of self-pity, cynicism and sarcasm, all of which is directed solely at me, my unfortunate soul, and my laboring mind, I thought I would pay heed to some well-meaning friends who have goaded me to write. Write, they said. And after the day is dusted, and time’s minutes have ventured into obscurity, write is what I am doing. I am not sure what I will write here.
Do I bare my soul? But then, it barely squeaks as it is half the time. Do I spill out the guts of my inner thoughts, the spindly leaves of moments that have turned into the past here? I don’t know. Much as I can say in my life right now, I don’t know.
But I am trying to take a step here. Perhaps, the accident that left me in bed for almost two weeks now has given me fresh fluidity of thinking into a muscled mass of congealed blood that I can call my feelings over the past few years. I am a zombie, but through this open diary, I am reaching out to that one person I know can set me right – if right was wrong, that is – and that is me. The title of this post is just that – touch chocolate – and sometimes you might find, that it just melts. I hope I do too.
