(no subject)
so I think part of me that journals has died. it used to be that if it wasn't here it was somewhere else; writing on table cloths, scribbling on napkins, filling up sketch books and journals...but somewhere along the line i actually stopped writing and drawing and even singing and pretty much stopped dreaming too. i feel like i've lost a friend, i barely even listen to music anymore. living at the beach was supposed to fix all of that. i think it might have, had things not gotten crappy. i'm trying to feel inspired again. i'm hoping this new move will mean those things for me bring me one step closer to the place where those dreams used to live.but i can't keep moving all the time...can i? at some point i started walling myself in and walling out the beauty of the world, a skill i'd mastered in early childhood. at times it gets so quiet in my mind, i have to crank up the volume all of the way to hear the steady hum of white noise. it was not like that for a while though. for a while i heard symphonies and big brass bands every time i closed my eyes. i smelled colors and tasted flowers...i took the time to explore. is it springtime or my youth that seems to be slipping away? i wonder still. i used to meet people and create new experiences almost daily. i want someone to blame. an explanation, maybe the lump in my throat. i blame my jobs, my roommates...i blame the lump. but, secretly i fear it's me. that i've lost something that i had only just found. that the joy in my life is that fleeting, and that maybe i blinked one moment before my dreams came true.