depleted

I miss myself.

I miss my life.

I feel unconsciously sucked into the world I swore never to be a part of, and it's killing me knowing that what I'm doing right now doesn't align with who I always thought I would be, who I thought I AM.

I miss writing, so much. I find myself going through old pieces, reminiscing how good it used to make me feel, how excited I used to be about it. I miss calling myself a writer, and feeling like one. I miss creating. I miss working on nameless projects, unsure if they'd see the light of day, but still happy to just be creating. I miss the creative process. I miss it so much, I feel so much relief just being able to string words into sentences and feel like I'm creating something, even if it is just a self-indulgent blog post. 

I'm trying to remind myself that I'm still that person. I'm still a creative. I thrive in the process of creation. I get excited by creative progress. I am an original, and they can never take that away from me. I can never be scared away from my true self. I refuse. 

Welcome to my little escape.