In the Rain
I wish I could go back to when I was creative again. When I could sit down at the piano and churn out a song and like it. Or when I could take out a pen and just write for hours on end. When I used to be able to write stories, novels, and every sentence had meaning. And even if I was never that great at it, even if I was simply good, I still miss that. I still miss being able to do that. I haven't really written in so long. And i haven't truly composed in so long. There's just a lack of imagination coupled with the stresses of dedicating the immense but necessary time needed to stay on top of classes and still maintain a social life....Blurg.
I'm revisiting my younger, creative self. Revisiting all the things I made, wondering how on earth i made them because I couldn't possibly now. I don't have the imagination any longer, or the will, or the edge.
I'm revisiting my younger, creative self. Revisiting all the things I made, wondering how on earth i made them because I couldn't possibly now. I don't have the imagination any longer, or the will, or the edge.