i haven't written poetry in months, or has it already been years? my facebook timeline used to be filled with my mediocre free form poetry. i've been telling myself the reason i can't write anymore is because i've healed the parts of me that fueled my brain to string words together. because there's no sadness inside me to go for a pen and paper just to let it out. there are no triggers to make my bones rattle and sometimes i think my poetry needs to be whirling, otherwise it's just pure bland writing.
you see, if there's one place i'd swear to never return, it's the place where my mind used to be. it's the darkest place i've ever been, yet it's also the place where the words would flow out freely. sometimes i'd be tempted to crawl back to the bottom. to scratch my brain and find pain in the midst of the haze and squeeze poetry out of my trembling hands. perhaps im only making excuses, perhaps i've become a lazy person.
but oh god, im a lot of things but lazy is not one of them. the feeling that "i want to create! i want to write!" always haunts me. but whatever, i keep a daily journal now. i try to be consistent but sometimes all i can muster is a one-liner. "today is a beautiful day". but i guess that's better than nothing at all.
maybe this why some people get addicted to their pain. the thing that tortures them is the same thing that fuels their inside, causing sparks that combust into something beautiful. and to be honest, there are times when it's the only thing worth living for.
— alaska // a writer's note
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