Should I write about my everyday job; although being extremely rewarding, it did not satisfy me in the least? Should I write about my lack of interaction? Should I write about my lack of social life? Should I write about my significant other being thousands of miles away or should I write about something as simple as the food I eat?
That's the thing. I lost the will to write. For someone, who has lived writing every day of her life, to think 'oh what's the point', is quite unsettling. I felt depressed by my aversion to putting words on a paper. I don't know exactly what pushed me to that, maybe the feeling of being inadequate, of being a failure whilst all my friends were off becoming someone and doing something. Lord only knows.
But here I am. Back on the wagon, so to speak.
Putting words on a paper seems easy. Only words are not simply words. They are feelings. Emotions. And most of all, something real. To all of you that read this, I beg you to not put yourself through what I did. To deny yourself the simple things you take pleasure from. Because life is simple and life is short and you never know when it could all just end and you'd never get a chance to bask in those little things again. So have that cheat day and enjoy that bath. Live it up, simply.
