It’s almost midnight, but I’m fully awake. With my phone in my hands tapping letters on the screen, under the blanket.

I’m feeling guilty. I promised myself to not use screens before bedtime anymore. But here I am again.

In the silence of this night, I can hear my daughter’s breathing. And inside me, I can feel my ideas bursting. Something, I haven’t had for a long time.

Tonight, after reading A Long Way Home: A Memoir, I feel the need to open this blog again.

It’s hard to believe that my last post was two years ago! Nothing after that.

For two years, I was busy being a mother. A teacher. And everything in between.

This morning, I bought the book.Tonight, I finished it.

And somehow, the writer in me has once again awaken from a long deep sleep. I have been wanting to write something meaningful. But, time has passed, and no letter was tapped. No sentences were formed. Nothing is written.

Tonight is different.

Tonight, I am writing.

My sentences might not be perfect. The grammar might be off. Maybe , I just want to be me.

As imperfect as a human as I am.

We are now living in a world relying on artificial intelligence. Photos can be edited to perfection. Sentences are polished in seconds, and information is one finger tap away.

But with these “perfection”, we somehow lose the real “connection”.

Maybe writing doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be done.

So tonight, under the blanket, to the sound of soft snoring, I tap letters on my phone—and finally, I write again.