It is not humanly possible for me to write an apology letter for my five month disappearance in 2,000 words. Still, I will use my only ability (if I still possess it) and toss some finely carved thoughts from a very profound, probably bottomless, part of my heart.
I am entirely, with all the entirety of the word entire sorry for my absence. In fact, that does not even do justice to how sorry and really, ashamed I feel.
I realize the causes for my sudden leave are quite important, yet I still find it very difficult, in some moments troubling, to achieve a clear cause. However, if I could summarize everything it would most likely end up in a single phrase: I got tired.
Tired of feeling how when everything was going so unbelievably well in my writing, out of the blue words began growing apathetic towards me. I kept it in silence, in a most precious secret. Probably ignoring the grade of difficulty words had upon the clock, labeling it as a mere and fleeting "writer's block". But the fog of such block began to slip away, and I began to see the reality: I had wanted to capture words so well; I had gotten trapped in my own attempt. Words now were suddenly an encrypted mystery I was not able (or meant) to decipher. They were there, all for me to have; yet I could not figure out the way to use them. They made me feel unable and I was not going to let them torture me anymore. Therefore, I took a step back (or many. In fact, five to be exact, if “steps” can be metaphorically used as months) and propose to myself a new path to explore.
I discovered things about myself (or to be more specific, things I was able to do) I didn’t have the most remote idea I could formulate. It turns out I’m fantasTÍC at the kitchen (oh yeah, baby), can paint a canvas more than my carpet while doing it (it is a self-compliment, if you’re on doubt), and other things I’m good at but can’t put my mind into remembering.