There was a time in my life when I was a prolific writer. I was awash in ideas and images that I couldn't wait to put down on paper...(yes, it was so long ago that paper was actually written on). I wrote poems, short stories and even some times, with the help of my sister, lyrics. Were they great? I don't know. I think I had some raw talent, I think I could have been a good if not great writer.
I always dreamed of writing a book, my life story if you will. In fact, I've been writing it in my head since I was a kid. When ever there was some major happening in my life, I would re-title the book. At 13, I fell "in love" for the first time..(a whole other blog) and my book was going to be called,"love at 13", hey, don't laugh, it could have been a best seller amongst the "tween" set. Of course when we broke up a few months later, I was going to call it, "Life, over at 13". I know not very imaginative.. but they got better as time went on. It got to the point that I had so many titles, I decided to make them chapter headings...If I ever actually write it, that book is going to have a lot of chapters...
I know I'll never write it... at least not anywhere other then in my head, hell, I have a hard enough time just writing a silly blog now and then. The thing is that my head feels empty. Empty of ideas, images, feelings. I keep wondering where they all went and if they will ever come back. Maybe I lost them when I lost myself. I'm not really sure how or why. I'm not sure it really even matters any more...
This wasn't supposed to be a depressing blog...I think I'm going to go eat some ice cream.
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