The Return

6 years I last posted. 6 years of sorrow, happiness, thrill, grief, pain, suffering, success, ease, fun, fear, fright, foolishness, regret, despair, panic, and pressure. I revisit this blog, almost accidentally. Sometimes I like to read my old writing. I like to observe the fluidity of words. I like to analyse the nature of the ink that flows from my pen. Is there improvement. Is there stagnancy? I do not know, yet I wish to know. I yearn to know. I need to know. I need to know how my writing stands compared to the Umar of the past. Of course, writing is but a collection of words, but behind those words rests a developing human mind. The words are a reflection of that mind. Is my mind working in a more sophisticated way. But what even is sophistication. That is a question for another day. For now, my brother beckons me to the gym. I wish not to go. But I must. My mind is in conflict with the desires of my soul. No. I am being dramatic. But what is creative writing other than an ostentatious display of words. Goodbye.