reconnecting with what I know

Writing has always been a source of comfort and pride for me. I was confident in the fact that I could wield words and somehow form them into something coherent, something that made sense. A few months back, I planned to get back to blogging, at least to use it to process my confused thoughts and feelings. Then I felt like that would be opening my soul too much to the world, and that what somehow, writing about something like that was too shallow, too childish for someone my age, and so I let it fall through.

I always attempt to write when inspiration strikes, and in the past few years, inspiration has been a dull, dim spark, that while there, was almost unnoticeable, and so I never put pen to paper, or fingers to a keyboard, to try hash out my feelings and thoughts. Maybe, between going back to school and writing for work, the small spark of inspiration got obscured. I do want to get back to writing, to blog again, to think of my thoughts consciously (does that even make sense?), to examine my feelings and motivations, and lay them out to the world, even though I have retained my reticence at sharing these scribblings with the people who know.