Miss Writer
There will come a day when the world you’re so use to looking at gains a new meaning.
I am confused of whether I should feel this way at the moment. You know, the feeling of confusion and defeat - yet wishing things were back to the way they once were. Maybe it’s the new year that has me in a saddening mood. I don’t read as often as I once had, mainly because my time is now filled with work and stressing over things to pay.
I have not completed the promises I’ve made to myself at the ending of last year. I have not taken out time to meditate and shoot new footage. I have not stood in front of a mirror and shared encouraging words with myself. Instead, I have driven to work every day while watching the evenings become darker, and the weather change into a cold blistering hell.
There is some part of me that has began questioning if happiness is achievable. If the life I am use to will ease its way into the next months. If traveling will become a new blissful heaven where I learn what it means to be free and daring. If anything, I want to finish the book I started three years ago. Not one that shares the sad tales of a teeenage girl, but one that is uplifting and raw. Transparent and real.
Will I ever stand in front of an audience to whisper the sweet words I write in the nights, or will the nightmares creep up next to my bed. All of these things become more real everyday. Every minute. Will this writer ever find her way to the comfort of her magical abode.
Xoxo,
A
I am confused of whether I should feel this way at the moment. You know, the feeling of confusion and defeat - yet wishing things were back to the way they once were. Maybe it’s the new year that has me in a saddening mood. I don’t read as often as I once had, mainly because my time is now filled with work and stressing over things to pay.
I have not completed the promises I’ve made to myself at the ending of last year. I have not taken out time to meditate and shoot new footage. I have not stood in front of a mirror and shared encouraging words with myself. Instead, I have driven to work every day while watching the evenings become darker, and the weather change into a cold blistering hell.
There is some part of me that has began questioning if happiness is achievable. If the life I am use to will ease its way into the next months. If traveling will become a new blissful heaven where I learn what it means to be free and daring. If anything, I want to finish the book I started three years ago. Not one that shares the sad tales of a teeenage girl, but one that is uplifting and raw. Transparent and real.
Will I ever stand in front of an audience to whisper the sweet words I write in the nights, or will the nightmares creep up next to my bed. All of these things become more real everyday. Every minute. Will this writer ever find her way to the comfort of her magical abode.
Xoxo,
A
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