Return To The Fold

"May sasabihin ako sa iyo." My mom confessed one night as we were about to climb the stairs. "Nabasa ng kapatid mo yung blog mo."  

"Alam niya na ikaw ang nagpahiram ng pera." 

"Ah ganun ba?" I tried to hide the dread by pretending to be unaffected.

I knew that sooner or later, my online journal will be discovered. I have been bold in posting pictures of my nephews, and revealing in telling stories about home. I regard such change as part of growing up. For no longer I write about my sexual preference, or the gay lifestyle I have to live with.

I now write as an ordinary person.

My mother didn't bother to probe deeper into the scandalous entries I have published, and my sister never raised the topic of revelation at all - even when we argue about how she runs her life. I have no idea how many pages she was able to read, but certain my feelings are, that she learned what needs to be known.

For this reason, I had to shut down my blog, change its url, and allowed a select few to have access to it. Mostly those who bothered to ask about my sudden demise. Because even when I hardly spoke of ill feelings toward my family, having your mind and heart exposed is like walking naked around the house.

The blog is, by all accounts, my memoir.

But to abandon it and its voluminous work is like a death sentence. For many untold days, the blog was my only confidant. Just a click of its pages will reveal the past I hardly spoke to everyone. It is a slice of collective history of events and people - with me as the narrator.

And while the distillation of stories, and the change of medium has left many nuances of my life unwritten, I still believe that I weave words for tomorrow; that should my breathing get permanently stolen by some cosmic instruction, there are footprints for loved ones to trace behind.

And though I may have lost clout with the sudden change of portal. This decision, I will not regret. But to stay hidden and let the words wilt without being read, is a great disservice to those who still find faith in sentences. Words are meant to be shared, especially when penned for others to learn. This is my little contribution to the great human experience. 

Blogging maybe a dying craft. But as one of those who found voice - a corner of expression in the anonymity of the web, I refuse to disappear without putting my epilogue.

Today is the eve of my beginnings, and to remember that 23-year old boy who thought of putting into digital pages the annals of his mind, allow me to raise my pen - in his memory - by walking back into the light to share our journey.

May those who would bother to read, pick a gem or two from the stories of our time.

After Eden

Prologue 

fullmetaldreams.blogspot.com

2004-2009