Mood: Youth is not wasted on the young.
Music: Love in this Club- Usher; 4 Minutes- Madonna; Our Song- Taylor Swift; See you Again- Miley Cyrus
I wanted to post something about my delicate recklessness the past months which my readers and friends don't know, but since i still couldn't quite figure out the right words to use, i just decided to write about it some other time when my brain's fully functional again.
There's nothing really special about my post today. I am just gonna rant about the fact that life has been impartial to my needs. One of which is that i don't get to read good books anymore because of so much work. I hate it when my imagination, feelings and subconscious inklings of things are being compromised. It makes me feel that i am less of a person, incapable of giving voice to my own wordlessness.
I noticed that i am constantly experiencing a form of writer's block which is in every sense of the word frustrating. I don't know what's causing my mind to riot from its own design. Perhaps, i am just not in the mood to write an articulate prose. Perhaps, vigor has abandoned me for someone who's more capable. I don't know.
I wish i could say that i didn't care if i could not write the way i used to. But things don't go that way for me.
I like learning about many things. Photography. Sports. Art. Music. But writing has proven to be the passion that can either kill me or save me. At this point in my life, i want it to be my lifeline. Soon, if it needs to serve a purpose larger than my life, i will, by all means, allow passion to end the high cost of living.
For now, i just want it back, i know i haven't lost it.