Hola, I'm back!

In the middle of reviewing for BMA lec, I felt a sudden rush of blood and an unforeseen urge to write. Soon afterward, I found myself staring in front of a blank notepad document, figuring out where shall I begin.

I had no idea. I felt so.... vacant. As though I was a virgin in writing.

Correct me if I'm mistaken but I think I used to be a good writer.. Or at least someone who made sense. I remember composing constructive and uplifting blog entries, as if I was some psychotheraphist giving some broken hearted girl a tolerably effective love advice. But now, I think to myself, what happened to the girl who used to write love in her arms? Where did all that artfulness go?

I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, it's the lack of inspiration. I could really use a muse right now *sang it to the tune of Airplanes* to unleash the Shakespeare or Meg Cabot in me. In the meantime, you could read my old posts if you can still find 'em. I must say I have a very complicated layout.. Funny how gay I was. Goodnight!