It's been a long time since I have sat down in front of a blank page. I'm not sure if I had run out of creative thought or my life just hasn't been that exciting to share with anonymous people. A lot of changes have occurred over the past couple of months and it kind of warped my sense of connection to writing. My emotions have deadlined. My muse, my inspiration is gone. What does one do, when the thoughts stop marching in, the well runs dry? I guess you look for more inspiration.. somewhere.
I don't like being this way. All open and seemingly vulnerable and stuff. I guess when you write though, that is exactly what one is. Open to opinion, criticism, skepticism, doubt, and hopefully praise. I'm kinda glad that I have ghost readers; ones that read and move on. They read me doling out my own therapy, musing about with my off kilter thoughts and ideas. They "hear" my philosophizing with a disconnected slant at times.. It makes sense to me though, and I guess that is all that really is needed.
Writing is an escape into your mind's mind. It allows you to delve into your deeper conscience for answers as you type out the letters that make words and the words that make sentences and the sentences that create your story.
Truth Be Told: Sometimes life can be like a Seinfeld episode. Everything about nothing but still fun to watch. (or in the case, write)
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