, , , , , ,

I am not very good at writing stuff. I have not ever written anything that was exceptional or worth getting an award or something. I was a little philosophical so whenever I had to write an article or an essay over some topic that was given in my class. I usually wrote it good enough to earn grades better than the lot. I still believe I am not good enough

I loved to read and chatter and chatter and talk till I felt light-hearted. One of my long gone friends *knowing this habit of mine* gave me some blogs to read and then encouraged me to write a blog of my own. Yes it helped. Initially I started writing about stuff that happened to me during my work hours *It was Random. Still is.* and as the spectrum grew broader I started to write about stuff that made me laugh, cry, or things that I learned from my mistakes.

Today, I wanted to write about how happy I was, how cheerful the early half of the day was for me but then while going through some pages and words of my personal life the switch inside of me flicked and suddenly the brightness of the day, the crispness of the morning fragrance and lightness of the atmosphere faded. The words that had been there flew away. The things I so wanted to write are like a jumbled thought that need hours and hours to sort.

That is exactly how my brain is right now.

So now I wonder if there is any way to open up the clogged brain to let the imagination run wild, to let the river of insanity flow again. *My insanity is not a bad thing. Trust me.* I like my wild self. I like how my brain works. I Do Not want a choked brain. No..!