An epiphany, possibly
It's funny how I've always felt that writing was cathartic and necessary to get the feelings that were eating at me out and into some other 'space of existence'. It's funny how I seemed to have so many feelings and how powerful and strong they felt at the time.
I'm not saying that I don't have feelings now. I definitely do, but they don't feel anything like they used to and most importantly, they aren't all about me. In fact, they are RARELY about me.
It's also kind of sad that I don't really have much to write about now. Has my life become utterly boring? Quite the opposite. It is so full and I am so busy all of the time not to mention SO HAPPY, that I rarely find the time or the desire to analyze everything so much. I'm busy living it, feeling it.
Should this just then exist as a time capsule for my youthful angst?
Should I just let it transform with me and see what happens instead of making it into something so specific?
I'm not saying that I don't have feelings now. I definitely do, but they don't feel anything like they used to and most importantly, they aren't all about me. In fact, they are RARELY about me.
It's also kind of sad that I don't really have much to write about now. Has my life become utterly boring? Quite the opposite. It is so full and I am so busy all of the time not to mention SO HAPPY, that I rarely find the time or the desire to analyze everything so much. I'm busy living it, feeling it.
Should this just then exist as a time capsule for my youthful angst?
Should I just let it transform with me and see what happens instead of making it into something so specific?
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