Hopelessness. A word that probably sums up my situation right now.
Lately these days, the sparks of ideas that I have has gone out. I was once a ball of sunshine, but now, I’m just a worn-out bulb. I’ve lost in touch with myself. I’m starting to be a stranger to yours truly. I’m beginning to be blinded to what I love, what my talents are, and who I am.
I see those other people that have already found themselves. They are completely in sync with who they really are. It’s like they discovered their calling. I see them good at what they love. How I wish I am also!
With the determination to find out what I really love, I tried the things I once adored—art and music. I know I can still regain my sight of who I am.
Art. I am good at it—I know it. I love how I drew memories—the ones that cannot be erased. I love how I painted colors in my heart—the ones that cannot be replaced. I am tranced in how art is like us that is being free from all of the world’s heaviness.
Yesterday, I attempted to do some art. Yearning for its color. I am hoping to turn my feelings into a masterpiece. After a long process of work, I completed it. As soon as I finished my so-called ‘masterpiece’, I looked at it. It was different. I don’t recognize the styles that I used. I cannot see myself into it, not like my other arts from the past. My art is empty.
Desperate to find out what I really love, I tried music. I am good at writing songs. Music is my forever comfort or so I thought. I strummed my guitar—yearning for its comfort. I am satisfied to hear its tunes. I began to put some words to the tune I just created, but I was stuck. I don’t know what to say or to create. What story should I produce? It was once my escape as it silenced my worries. I cannot find inspiration. I tried playing the piano, yearning for its help for me to write some lyrics. I began writing but as soon as I am finished, my lyrics were all around. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t get it. I don’t identify my music.
After many attempts, I just lost it. I lost my own shadow, and I don’t know where it did go. I give up. I don’t know how to be one with myself. I don't know ho to seek what ignites my soul on fire.