Writing use to be therapeutic for me. It was a form of release. It helped to clear my mind. It provided me peace. The feelings that I felt regarding certain situations would spill out onto the page providing me instant gratification. Sadly, this is no longer the case. Those same thoughts that once filled the page still lingers in my head. My mind races with no end in sight. It’s crazy. I can’t seem to find an inkling of peace/clarity. Has writing for me become a thing of the past? Honestly, I don’t know, but if I can’t find freedom in writing then why should I continue. Maybe I need to find something different to occupy my time. But what?
It’s interesting because things that use to provide me gratification aside from writing no longer do. I’m at a point in my life where I want something different, exciting, new. Something that intrigues me. I realize that none of what I use to do works for me anymore. I don’t know. I’m just immersed in my own thoughts. I have a vision of how I would love for things to be, but in time we will see.
Blessings,
M
In My Mind 