Last night I found myself thinking. alot.
I couldn't sleep, my mind just kept racing. So I decided to write. I wrote and wrote and wrote until eventually I filled a notebook. I wrote 140 pages, front and back, no skipping lines, no breaks of any sort, until I finally decided that I could sleep.
I woke up this morning and I felt refreshed. Engergized. I went to class and my mind started racing once again.
So I flipped to the back of my notebook and started writing again. In my two hour lecture I filled 12 pages. Once again, front and back, no skipping lines and no breaks of any sort.I didn't really write about anything imparticular.. not really. Alot of things always seemed to bring me back to a certain thing, but I can't say that this was all about that.
It just boggles my mind that after quitting writing because I found that I just couldn't do it anymore, I can just write like I used to. It kind of makes me sad. I gave up alot because I thought I couldn't do it. I guess I've just been inspired recently. Alot of things have happened lately, I suppose you could say that they contribute to this. That's what I'm finding anyhow.
But I'm hoping I didn't give up everything I've worked so hard for, for the past few years for absolutely nothing.
Everything happens for a reason right? I hope...