Looking back at my older articles – those written in my early days of blogging – I began to feel a sense of dissatisfaction for a moment.
It then gradually amplified, «browsing» a randomly selected article, until I wondered «Did I write here?»
And after a long wait I was still left with the same question «Really me?»
Then I thought about the joy with which I began to formulate each part and subject that I wanted to model.
I wanted to find many style figures that I could weave in my own way in different variants on themes that I found interesting at the time.
Classic, sometimes banal metaphors that at the moment have remained a bit «dusty».
There are just so many embellishments that make it difficult to write and understand sometimes.
Then I went back to my beginnings and I was unhappy with most of the articles.
At one point I wanted to save them somewhere for myself and delete them from the blog.
But in the end, I chose not to do that.
And I gave myself another chance to accept the limit of acceptance with myself.
And the way I transpose my ideas according to my condition.
And looking at the past I realized that I went on a road that I brought here.
Maybe thinking like that, I’m just making a mistake that I repeat every day.
I think about the goal I want to achieve – doing what I want and wish – but I completely forget that tomorrow or in a year I am still me.
And that life goes the same way … one way or another.
What happened to me in the present intermediate period and the «purpose I want to achieve» cannot be denied as if it did not exist.
I can’t complain about the time that has passed with poor or slow results.
Just as I can’t complain that today was a bad one if I always refer to yesterday.
It was difficult for me to relate and identify myself among the old articles and the period in which I wrote them.
There’s another voice there.
There are mixed thoughts, as if my personality is missing from many.
But I cannot deny that they are not written by me.
And I accept the old version to take an important step forward for me.