I can't let this go down the tubes. I can't. It's too important. It's my life. I think in prose and in the lyrical quality of words, but you can only write so much in your mind before you lose it... Some days its just easier to lose it, though. Sometimes, having the self imposed expectation to write... something, ANYTHING is just enough to make me want to back away, at least for that moment. That mechanism, that switch, that shut-off scares me on a deep level. Writing is akin to breathing for me, even if I can count the people that read it on one hand. No, that's not the point and it is the wrong reason to take on this passion, this dream... or this hobby? Please let it be more than that...
I've given up everything and put it back together, I've experienced the darkest and most desperate places a human can go. I've also lived and seen the beauty and light that exists in the world... And I've always documented pieces of it all. No matter how preoccupied or depressed or dysfunctional I became, I always had with me the drive to write. Sometimes, and I truly believe I speak for all writers here, the desire to write does not exist in a certain moment, and trying to unnaturally pull it from where it resides produces nothing but shallow fallacy.
Sometimes, to have that honesty, you just have to wait for it.
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