1462 days.
If I were to convert that into hours, I reckon it’ll be over 35000 hours.
That’s how long we’ve been together. Sounds like a lot, doesn’t it?
To be honest, it is. Especially to me, whose normal relationships have a shorter expiry date than a can of processed food with extra long shelf life.
I’m sure you’ve heard it before. But it’s not you. It’s me. That’s how soon I get bored. That’s how soon my procrastination sets in, and then I start looking for newer avenues.
Fresher prospects, if you will.
Of course, I’m not proud of it. It’s something that I’ve battled with for many years, and perhaps will continue to do so. No, it isn’t about loyalty. It’s just the way I’ve been programmed perhaps. A manufacturing defect as some of my friends state.
But somehow, it has never happened with you. And trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve given you up. I’ve gone for long spells without being in touch with you. Not telling you about the little and big things that keep going on in my life. It’s not been easy either. It wasn’t as if I could wake up one day and then decide, I’ll no longer talk to you.
But deep down, there was always this voice. A weird sounding inner-calling maybe, that reassured me that you’d be there. Waiting. Patiently. Ready to welcome me back with open arms and a heart that always had my name written on it. And you did.
We’ve been through a lot together. Made some great friends. Lost a few, ones we thought were great at one point. We’ve seen points where we were completely neglected by everyone else. We’ve also seen days when we had enough people around us to make us feel like we meant something to them. Why we’ve even scaled a few heights of recognition together.
We’ve grown so much over the years. You’ve been there when I’ve been low. And You’ve been the reason for a lot of my highs.
In fact, today, a lot more people know you than they know me. They relate to the things you say, the tales you weave, the parenting escapades you regale them with and the tantrums you sometimes throw. You’re in a lot of ways, my second child. The one that we created as a sort of ‘companion’ for our first human one 🙂
As individuals, we all strive to be known for the things we do. The changes we make, the steps we take. But secretly, as parents, most of us would also love to be known as ‘so-and-so’s’ parent. To me, you’re already at that stage. The point where my identity is somehow intertwined with yours.
The point where I’m identified as your creator, rather than you being my creation. That, to me, is a true moment of success.
It’s been a while since I wrote a personal post. While I do try and put my heart and soul into every one of my posts, I realise that I’ve perhaps really never written about you. And it’s only fitting that now feels like the right time to say this.
Happy Birthday, I Wrote Those!
Thank you, for being my identity on this world wide web. And beyond.
If you’re reading this, I have a small request to ask of you. And as the question forms in my head, I realise that it may be something that could be misconstrued as being slightly curt, but I’m going to ask anyway.
Why do you read this blog? What keeps you coming back? Is there anything else you’d like to see ‘written’ on ‘I Wrote Those?’
No, I’m not fishing for compliments. You’re free to say if you think the blog is rubbish. I know my limitations. But I also realise that one of the biggest things that’ll let you improve as a writer is knowing what your core audience thinks about what you write and asking them what they’d like to see more of.
So here’s me. Just an alter-ego of the blog. Sitting at my keyboard. Asking you why you love/hate me. 🙂
I Wrote Those 
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