Practice makes perfect, right?

A long time ago, I used to write all the time. Writing was my therapy. Writing gave me the release that I needed to forge through whatever crazy event was saturating my life. At the genesis of social media, and long before the hype of data analytics:  I had a blog. And quite a few followers if I must say so myself. I wrote daily blogs about my personal life, I wrote poems, and short stories. Not everything I wrote made it online. Some things were very personal. I had umpteen journals through out the years, tracking my ups and downs of my life.

Then one day someone took those journals and placed them on a BBQ pit and burned them.

I stopped writing after that.

But slowly, I am emerging. Hoping to find my voice. I want to coerce that being which once gave me so much validity to dance with me once more.

Anyways, the majority of my writing was stored on a gmail account. One that incidentally got deleted. With all this hype of the NSA, I know Google must still have access to the data. What does Google do with old email accounts?

Whenever I get emo about this stuff I watch this video.


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