The trilogy.

Fumbled explanations, idle chatter, and paralyzing fear.

1.

I pick up the blog baton once again after a short hiatus, and it feels better than it should to be writing again. I tell myself that I'm keeping me accountable for the creation of productive new words every day, but it's mostly because I miss intentionally spilling my brain's content over an unsuspecting computer screen. It just feels good to vent sometimes, as I'm sure you'll find room to agree. I suppose in my last post I gave a warning about the possibility of me never posting again, but you probably didn't believe it, and your doubt has paid off.

I think I didn't want to write anymore because I was afraid. Mind you, this isn't the one spoken of in the trilogy, but we'll get there. I was afraid because of the wasted strands of emotional energy draping themselves over a pointless exercise. I come to struggle [again] with the question of why I even use this blog, and although you're probably tired of it, you'd be surprised to find how heavy a question such as that weighs on the mind. But the other priorities weigh heavier, I tell myself. Hence the reason for me taking the break, to clear the mind, quench the soul, and soak the imagination.

Did I succeed? I certainly hope that you'll be able to tell the differences in a few months, but for now I'll leave you with this: explosions are imminent. Replace any sense of foreboding or anticipation with nonchalance; it won't matter until it happens, but when it does, you will know.

2.

The swelter of Thailand returns as unwelcome as ever a guest in the city, but I've come to doubt he ever left. In fact, he was only resting over the blanket of clouds above until he was to make his scorching return, as the wet spots on my shirt can certainly testify. Talking about the weather seems idle, since it doesn't often change, but I suppose it makes it all the more mention-worthy when it does. Poor swelter, feeling lonely and left out. There, there.

3.

The days are growing thinner, starved of certain happiness and replaced with empty fear. It's a difficult thing to swallow, and they often choke. It's this paralyzing fear that I also regularly chew on, and it fills the stomach with dread. Depressing metaphors aside, it's the ever growing 'promise' of a new life that threatens to gobble me whole. I don't mind picking up the pieces and starting over, but I can't start over without dropping a few too many of those pieces, and that's what frightens me. I've grown to acclimate myself at least adroitly enough to new surroundings when I'm similarly surrounded by people who share some of the same backgrounds as I. When not, I'm afraid I don't fare so well. Or, maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic. I haven't fared well yet.

Pessimism is an easy commodity to come by these days, and if I told you that I hadn't been buying any, I would also be selling lies. Former glories and future accomplishments are quite the shallow grave to bury myself in, with dirt made of apathy. I've never been one to see the big picture, and I don't intend on starting now, even if it means looking outside of the coffin. I suppose the only thing keeping me energized is the sense of love I've found from the wonderful people around me, which makes me all the more reluctant to leave, but such is the life of the missionary. But, onward, optimistic thinking.

Things to look forward to:

- New creative ideas
- The bond of new friendships, on all different levels
- The passage of becoming a man
- A smaller world, and ties kept strong

Those sentiments just about encompass, albeit simply, everything that college life is going to offer me, but I have no idea how the fulfillment of them is going to play out, and if there are any more bullet points on the horizon.

I will definitely keep this updated, and hopefully your next reading journey will be slightly more pleasant (but with the state of my writings skills, I severely doubt it) .

- Ben, the traveler