So, I quit writing there for awhile. About a week or two.
And that’s the part where you should worry about me.
When everything’s good in my world, I write. I find the charisma to write. I’m getting all of it out–all of these demons, screaming out of my head and typed onto some digital medium. And then, sometimes, some things happen, and my world just stops.
There are certain experiences in life that are too hard to express through language. There is a pain and sadness, related to my experiences as of late, that, if I were to try to express it…. Well, I’d just feel like my words wouldn’t be anywhere near adequate.
I guess that’s where time factors in–my hiatus. I hate that word. There was this point in my life where everyone around me–people with the lingual capacity barely (if) surpassing the abilities of most birds–kept using hiatus. But that’s what it was–a “hiatus” from writing.
I’m back now. Life comes in phases. I’ve accepted this. I just…want to work those phases into my process instead of letting them put me on a halt that lasts this long. There’s nothing therapeutic about not even having the ability to sit down and chirp something out.
But here I am, now. So, I guess it’s the reflection of a bad set of experiences that will enable you to write about them: but only after you’re able to process the events properly.
There. Something good came out of it, then. Lesson fucking learned.
Back to the drawing board.