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I've decided to return.

For the last one month, I've been alone. For the first time in my life, I have been away from the people I have loved the most in the world, the places I call home. I am somewhere where no one knows me. No one knows my story, my past, my aspirations, my dreams, my life. For the first time in my life, I am alone.

And when you're alone, there's much that you can see, and hear, inside you. Maybe this is the best time to account for my life. Time feels as if it has slowed down so I can catch up.

I stopped writing here because I felt I was so happy with my life now, I didn't need this anymore. This blog is full of old stories, the cobwebs of memories and the scent of past hurts. I felt, as time moved on, I needed to as well. I don't know why, but it is always loneliness that drives me to write, and somehow I felt that was wrong. So I stopped.

But this isn't really about me. I am not unhappy, and I'm not depressed or in need of help. But sometimes, when I'm all alone, and the world is beautiful around me, and life is going by too fast, I need to stop and account for all of it. What a lot of people don't understand it is that it's not my own hurt that is reflected in these pieces of writing, but of the people I saw all around me. So many of these posts are the reflections of people I know, and what they were going through.

I stopped writing because people kept feeling that I was the one who was sad and needed counseling or support. I am always in need of support, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm one of those people who need people around them, people they can depend on. And I have always been blessed with the best of friends and family. But when you read a post that echoes sadness, don't assume, is all I ask.