A Story Becomes History

   I was not happy with who I was. I guess that the reason wasn't sophisticated as much as I thought it would be. I couldn't deny that time has done all the necessary trimming work for me including easing my emotional hormones. Because nowdays that memory specifically provides me that I am sensing that I am not rushed nor indulged in a certain stage of emotional status to control all over my mood. That brings me one thing for sure: I realize it as I am getting older. And I have to adjust my tunes to cope with this change. 

   Once, I was desperately searching for top of something that I should reach in my life time. It didn't completely mean rich and famous in its nature, rather it was something that I wished to be very very good at. It was like a moment that I could explain whole things from beginning to end very fluently as I closed my eyes. It was also like an experience that I would know of whole things completely in my hearts. But what I missed was that self-esteem was not a result from what I have done but was a process through what I have been doing. I guess I knew where I wished to go, but I didn't know how I could get there. It was absolutely the heart of every inner conflicts that I used to have.

   So I am not trying to go for writing history directly around this time. Because I know a story becomes history when time comes.