I Haven’t Written in Two Years
Who have I become?
I stopped writing. I didn’t know I was going to stop, I just logged out one day and that was the last time I would write anything for two whole years.
It feels strange to be back gazing at this white screen, not knowing what’s going to come out next. If you’re here wanting to know what these past two years have done to me, I apologize. The truth is, I hardly know myself intimately anymore, as I write this I'm hoping for a reunion.
I’d write to myself when I needed a savior. I want to write again, I want to live again.
Writing this makes me uneasy because I feel seen, though only by my own eyes, I feel seen.
I think a big part of why I stopped writing is because the closer I look at myself, the more I see things that need to change. Writing has always shown me parts of myself I didn’t know I was hiding.
What am I hiding today?
Well, right now I’m afraid that this might be the worst thing I’ve ever written. That’s the thing about me, I’m so afraid to fail that I’d rather never try.
I’ve locked eyes with myself.
I started writing this to figure out where I should go from here and I think the answer is easier than I once thought. In order to break the cycle of stagnation, I have to try.
That’s it.
I have to wake up and decide that I will be who I dream to be.
