Why I stopped writing 

To be sure, I was never a consistent blogger to begin with but during the past six months I completely lost any incentive to write – at least on a public platform. It’s not that I suffer from a chronic writer’s block or an all-consuming work schedule. There is no shortage of thoughts and ideas that I mull over and develop into internal conversations. Sometimes I start writing only to end up with piles of drafts and half-finished essays. The reason these never see the light of day is that I no longer see the point. I’ve only ever written for myself and if unstructured stream of consciousness is what I mainly produce, well then it shall remain for my eyes alone. There was a time when I worked hard to produce something more readable and more cohesive for someone else to read but since my outreach is so microscopically small it was easy to lose motivation. It seems endlessly futile to be sharing one’s thoughts online when the effect is indistinguishable from writing them in one’s diary, or screaming to the wind. If I felt like I had something to say that someone else hadn’t already said better, perhaps then there would be a reason to speak, but alas, I don’t. 

Now would be the time to announce a new start, a new way of looking at writing – the Phoenix rising from ashes and making a glorious return to the blogosphere! But no. This is not a start of something new. It’s simply an explanation – or an excuse, not that I’m in any way obliged to give one. Not that anyone has asked for one.

Perhaps one day I’ll get back to it, perhaps I won’t. But for now, I am literally typing this on my iPhone, and that should tell you something.