I've been distracted by the very things that inspire me to write. I almost gave up on this blog, decided it was another futile attempt to be a writer, sank deep into doubt and began pondering the very nature of my existence. I was stuck, drowning in the slowly setting concrete of my unstable mind, more lost than ever, searching for meaning and finding none. This blog was a way of describing the methods, reasons and motivations behind that uncontrollable need to write, but I think that was too naive. What use is a description of the desk I sit at to write, or the processing power of the keyboard I type away at if I am not absolutely honest about the underlying moods and fears that saturate my thought processes with all those vast and confusing ideas? The very ideas that become a poem(if I'm lucky).
So it's time for a new start. Time to explore my fears, not hide away from them. Time to be a poet again. To write honestly and freely and not shy away from my flaws.
It's time.
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