Ralphie's Ramblings

That’s an excellent question. In the past, people wrote for the joy of it, and if they were talented enough, they also earned a living from it. Others used writing as a way to express their thoughts and emotions. However, the advent of the internet has transformed the landscape of writing. It has become more income-driven, with blogs and videos used to influence people in various ways. Writers often receive tips or offer paid content on various services. Now, let’s delve into the question of why I write. I write because I enjoy it. It’s something I’ve always loved since I was young. I often had notepads around where I would jot down thoughts, ideas, and emotions. I never kept a journal, but these notes served as a way for me to express feelings that I kept bottled up inside. Sometimes, it was simply a fun activity. I would have a story idea or song lyrics in my head and write them down. I often had music playing as I wrote, and surprisingly, it actually calmed me down and helped me foc...

  Thoughts unresolved   I sit and ponder why my dreams, once cherished, have slipped away. Was it fate or destiny that guided me, or did I simply make a decision too late? The hours that have passed, the years that have flown by, a lover found while others weep. A tempest raged, and now life seems to be drawing to a close. Yet, I still find myself wondering: is this reality, or is it merely a dream, a fleeting moment on the threshold of eternity? 

  The Walk On a sunny spring day, I planned a walk to cherish the closeness and love we shared. We strolled hand in hand down the dusty road, knowing the area and trails well. I had a specific patch of grass near a tree in mind—I thought it would be perfect for us to sit and reflect on the day. It had been a relatively quiet walk, which was a bit unusual for us, but I sensed that I hadn’t been my usual self for many weeks. I was hopeful that this walk would help me rediscover my true self. As we kissed by the tree, I noticed a sudden shift in our behavior. I decided to peek and saw your eyes open, gazing up at the sky. You didn’t appear angry, but neither did you seem happy. You quickly closed your eyes when you saw me look. I waited a moment and looked again, but once more, you were staring, disconnected from the experience. I held out my hand, and we slowly walked back along the old, dusty road. As we walked, we remained silent. We held hands, but it felt more like a courtesy tha...