i am not inspired. i am just going to force myself to churn out some words so as not to waste some empty minutes online.

 

apparently moments like this really exist. there is nothing that needs to be expressed yet you want so badly to make up something just to feel that you’re in touch with the craft. even my journal entries these past few days have become empty chronological accounts of daily activities. i make the pen meet the paper out of habit. nothing else. there is a bland air to the self these days. almost a kind of numbing. it is just that i am so afraid of losing the habit of writing again. although i shouldn’t be afraid because i should not lose that habit. but i guess it is a good thing to be afraid at times. shakes up the balance. keeps things in check. kinda drives you nuts too. makes you ask questions. makes you wanna read books. makes you wanna engage in conversations. never mind that most of the sane world would remark that these are things you need not say, need not ask, need not think, need not feel. but screw the rest of the planet. the need-nots need not be entertained.

i am not inspired. but the wonderful discovery here is that you can imagine being inspired. and then you will be.

 

lovely.

 

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