Pleasure of writing

Though I don’t regularly post on my blog, but I habitually write. Sometimes about my bio, others about any topic that comes to mind, and sometimes just travel inside my mind to check if there’s some inspirational stories and try to form words and sentences to feel the pleasure of writing and at the same time bear its pain. The challenge I always faced is the inability to finish my writings and I stopped many articles, that I still think are about good or at least worth to write about topics, at the middle of the way and never come back to finish them. I’m not a professional writer or blogger, but I’m intrigued by writing practise. And from time to other, I intend to share some of those writings on the blog. Yes, it’s true that a blog importance is mostly measured by how much interaction and comments it receives, and despite my blog receives less comments and have only few on some posts, but I think, though I should not judge myself, that content I post is not that bad but interaction is affected by the number of visitors of the blog, and this is my blog’s problem due to the lack of optimization. Nevertheless, I keep posting, since I’m pleased when practicing writing and also since there still at least some people that comes across my posts and have look. And I still keep some hope that I could receive comments on my future posts, who knows?!

Battle in mind

From time to other, when my ideas go in clash between each other and the struggle intensifies bit by bit, I could hear the noisy hits of arms and drums beats in my head. And when the bitterness of the battle rises and the brawl between the tough ideas is increasing, I could feel the flames of fire burning on my head’s walls. If a rival wins the fight, then the war eventually ends and pain slowly gets over, but when the battle lasts for long without a winner, each legion took its troops back. The fight certainly would be resumed later, presumably between the same armies or between others, but what’s certain, war never ends and if it does there’s no need to my existence.

Shrubs of grief and sorrow

When doors of a heart are closed and no light let in, trees of darkness and shrubs of grief grow up in the deep of its corners and flowers of anguish bloom all around! When the grass of sorrow is irrigated with water of gloom, it propagates more and more. And when all those plants of distress are left without mow, we can see but a garden of misery and depression.