...i think the title explains it all.
wow...i never realized until now how much time i DON'T spend at home.
and since i don't have facebook (i.e. a cleverly disguised means of stalking ppl), i've been reduced to actually cleaning my apt. for those of you who know me in real life, you know that any time i'm bored and you ask me what i'm doing, the answer will always be "i'm cleaning my apt." yes, take note of that so you can save me next time...
anywho, in my very slow process of cleaning, i came across one of my old poetry journals. it brought back a lot of memories...mainly very dark, depressed, troubled ones...but memories, nonetheless. what it also showed me was how far i've strayed from writing. i used to get in a zone and i wouldn't come out until i was done...and voila, there on those pages would sit my heart beats. the songs of my soul.
man, i miss that feeling so much.
now, instead of letting myself flow, i get lost in the frantics of life. i hate that i let so much stuff suck the creativity out of my life...
i miss how alive i felt.
i crave that freedom again.
i long to hear my voice once more.
No comments:
Post a Comment