It's been about 3-4 years since I started this account and I have to say that those times were the best times of my writing journey. Words flow effortlessly and they were so genuine and beautiful that I still go back to them just to relive that feeling. Those were the times that I fell so in love with writing -- a therapy that saved myself from the mundane reality. Knitting words was like running on an open fields: feeling the grass on my feet, the sun on my face and just discovering life in all its rawness. I still wish to go back to that time. I felt so young then - happy and so... innocent.
I badly want to be that person again. I tried, but it is so hard to write about something beautiful and amazing when everything around you is burning like crazy. It's been almost a year since we went into lockdown. I have been staying home since March 2020 and I only go out for some 'me time' every other week. I seldom meet up or talk with friends and I can't travel for sanity. I just feel so isolated. For someone who's been an introvert all her life, this didn't sound so bad, but I feel like I've been alone with myself for too long - and that is not a good idea. I am a ticking time-bomb. I felt so many things these past months - negative ones - and I didn't want to write about it cause I think that the world has too much negativity right now.
I want to write about something hopeful and inspirational but it's hard to write about something you couldn't feel.
I. Am. Barely. Surviving.
And if you are too, I hope you don't give up.
I still think there are beautiful things in this world. Things that we have to rediscover it in the future. But right now, it's okay if all we did was to survive.