The See-Through Sliding Door

Assalamualaikum.

I just went and gave my old blog a visit.

I still remember the very first time I blog.

     It was during the SPM break. After we were done with our Science subject papers and other normal papers (BM, BI etc) we have quite a few days of break before the next paper which were PQS and PSI papers, if I am not mistaken. But anyway, the break was quite long. So I sign up for blogger. 

'And it was the best decision I have ever made!!!' statement would make a good impression here but honestly, I am still deciding whether it was the best decision I have ever made or not.

     But anyway, during my early days of blogging, I enjoyed it. I remember typing my first post, Kak Long's laptop on my lap and my fingers dancing on the keyboard, typing eagerly. I was sitting at the end of the queen sized bed, leaning on the wall. As a matter of fact, I actually remember that I was still in my school uniform, just came back from sitting a paper. But of course, what I remember might be different from what really happened but the description associated with my first day as a blogger actually tells me that it was a pleasant one.

     After SPM has ended, I wrote almost everyday. And I always thought of things to write on my blog. I would like to document every possible meaningful event of my life with the people I love. And so I did. I blog on my experience of going to driving classes, my 17 year-old thought on love, friendship and life, my asasi days, I put on my favourite quotes from my favourite books and share figuratively every word that has ever crossed my mind. And I loved it.

Last few years I didn't blog as much as I used to anymore.

Why? Simply because things are not, and do not feel the same anymore. And I am not the same person anymore.

Things that might have been important, significant and meaningful may not refer to the same events anymore as how it used to work to the events in the past.

     And exposing the alter ego behind the words feels like being locked in a room full of audience, each with a small bottle of poison in their hands, some are exposed, and some are hidden.

Which is good. 

     If things written go gibberish and nonsensical, I hope one of them would voluntarily come up and feed me one, so that that particular nonsense part would die, and gives room for other alter egos to come up and take over.

But of course.

     That very poison has to react accordingly to the code of that nonsense (as how they claim it to be) for it to die and disappear. Or it's not gonna work. 

And if it doesn't work.

     I would gave them a smile, gladly give that person a white flower, open the see through sliding door and watched him/her walk into the next room. I could still see him/her through the door but that's okay because their voices wouldn't be able to make their way to my eardrum.

And that is more than okay.

Wait, I forgot to thank them?

Ah well.

That door is permanently locked anyway.

Except . . .