This is just a repost from my journal:
Tuesday, 08 Dec 2009
You know, I sometimes feel guilty that I only write about (her) most of the time. Why? I think a lot. I talk a lot. I write a lot. But why do I record just my experiences with and thoughts about her in this journal?
Is it a matter of being used to? I’m an unconventional person. My experiences and interests differ from time to time.
I think I just want to be remembered as a passionate person. Not an intelligent, talented or witty person. Nor a relentless, stubborn guy. But… someone who loves and enjoys the gift of life and relationships.
And I like to remember my passions too. Sometimes, an occasional depression and lack of direction or joy come my way. It helps when I flip back through the pages. Here, written by my own hands are evidences of how a man can (desperately and) helplessly think of a beloved one. He can not only think. He can feel. He can harbor intense emotions. He can do good things. He can do crazy things. He can love. He can relish simple joys. He can cherish irresistible passions.
That’s why I write. (She)’s my passion.
Signed by me.