Everything changes into the same.
People and places forgetting their names.
Once upon a time, there was a reason
Now it is a season
Of my Life.
There is a reason why I am writing, though it eludes me now. I want to express something, though I can’t name it. I can’t see it. I can’t touch it. I can only feel it… they say to feel your words. I do. Yet I can not write.
It isn’t writing block. I can write. I just don’t want to. I used to dream that my words mattered… I would write for people… those who wanted to read… even if was just me. Throw my words into the horizon and let them be found… like a guiding star… I would write because I thought that someone needed to hear my thoughts… I would write because I thought that one day someone might need them… yet now… I don’t even want them…
I do yet I don’t… I don’t because I failed them… as I failed myself… I need my words, yet I turn away… again and again and again.
There is a reason why I am writing… it is because I need to. I will write again… I need to be patient and focus on why