Two weeks has already passed since I ended my longest hiatus (40 days) from social media. Now that I’m back on the regular rounds of status, 3 x 3 grid, and more or less 140 characters to express my thoughts, I found myself thinking back to the time when I shut it off.

During the first week of my absence, people and fried were wondering, Why did you disconnect? Are you deactivated? Why the need? Well, because I was fed up. I was overwhelmed with all these things that a screen can present for hours without an end. The internet became a labyrinth that I didn’t know how to get out off. It was eating me up, and I was already beginning to feel lost. On the deeper side of things, I found myself questioning my own posts; do the things I post online still reflect a real version of me? Is there still authenticity? I might just be a bad case of being an over thinker, but still it bothered me.


The last time I read a Nicholas Sparks novel was during my freshman year in college. The university’s library has always been refuge for me, but when I discovered that it also housed a variety of fiction books it became a little bit of heaven. I borrowed books every week and most of it were Sparks’ novels.

It was a two-week marathon of love stories with heartbreaking tragedies; eventually this plot grew familiar that I can already guess who would die or be involved in an accident. The love scenes got too descriptive for me, so after a month I stopped reading his novels. It turned around last week because of much-needed break from all the deep and serious stuff that I’ve been reading. When a colleague/friend offered me to lend her copy of The Longest Ride, I accepted with the thought that giddy or kilig novels can be a good break.