I used to love

 I remember when I was a child I used to love. Love anything and anyone, who loved me, who acted like they loved me, and anyone who said a kind word to me, even if not with the best intention. 

Please, forgive me, kind reader, if my English is not perfect, this is not my first language, and feel free to correct me (without an offensive tone), I am happy to listen and learn. 

This blog is a practice. Not for English. Just to find my real voice.

I used to write, write a lot, I have been a blogger when the blogs first appeared in my first home country. I used to be quite good at it, so they said. But I always tried to please folks with my posts and that must have altered my voice, even if I couldn't admit to myself the time. Popularity makes people do weird, unusual things. Not that I was so popular, but I had my audience. 

But enough of that. Let see if I ever can build a new audience. 

I don't know how you do it nowadays, but I am distracted. Distracted in everything, whatever I do. 

If I watch a film, I am distracted by my mobile. When I read a book, I distracted by the technology around me. When I drive, I am distracted by my thoughts. When I try to sleep, I am distracted by my regrets and fears. When I pray I am distracted by my hopes and dreams. 

Distraction became my life. Never thought it would happen. I used to be proud of myself for reading so much, for writing so much, for not letting myself down. Proud to be a learner always, in every circumstances. 

I realize this post looks like a cry out for the past. Please, forgive me. I have to warm up and get back to my old routine. I have to let out this whining, before I am able to concentrate on more important things. 

I have got to the age when I have to summarize my achievements (not difficult), deduct my losses and list my regrets. 

In the following months you will witness how my personality comes out and I am going to list the beautiful and the terrifying things I have done. You are also going to witness the things I think I am still able to act on and the changes I still want to apply. There are many. 

Please, if you are here, just leave a sign. It is always nice to know somebody cares about the product of your mind. When I read a book, any good book, I always feel the writer close to me. Sometimes I imagine having a conversation with them and figure out why they did something with their character or why they didn't. Or I ask their advice on life. These imaginary chats  are sometimes more fulfilling than my everyday ones. I had many imagined conversation with Stephen King, Tolkien or even Maupassant and Leon Uris. Have you ever done this? Or maybe I am crazy?

I guess, not crazy, but definitely, irreversibly lonely.