Where did the flame go....
In an effort to remember the answer to an old question I looked up a post of mine from many moons ago and I was astounded at what I read.
The words nearly jumped off the screen at me. I couldn't believe how colorful and lyrical the descriptions are - I had forgotten I once was able to have my way with words.
Maybe I should visit you more often, LJ. Perhaps part of my problem is not that I do not know my thoughts, but that I do not express them. I found my personality in text, and in text's artistic, two-dimensional cousin. I do not read, I do not write, I do not draw - rarely does paper pass my hands these days.
So, this week, I vow to start small. I promise myself that I will take that first step down the road of re-self-discovery. I will pick up a pencil and a sketchbook. I will breathe life into the characters floating in the fog-covered abyss of my imagination. I will find a page-turner that fuels the inspirational fire that has long turned to embers. Maybe then, in remembering who I was, I will begin to find who I want to be.
The words nearly jumped off the screen at me. I couldn't believe how colorful and lyrical the descriptions are - I had forgotten I once was able to have my way with words.
Maybe I should visit you more often, LJ. Perhaps part of my problem is not that I do not know my thoughts, but that I do not express them. I found my personality in text, and in text's artistic, two-dimensional cousin. I do not read, I do not write, I do not draw - rarely does paper pass my hands these days.
So, this week, I vow to start small. I promise myself that I will take that first step down the road of re-self-discovery. I will pick up a pencil and a sketchbook. I will breathe life into the characters floating in the fog-covered abyss of my imagination. I will find a page-turner that fuels the inspirational fire that has long turned to embers. Maybe then, in remembering who I was, I will begin to find who I want to be.