Because I’ve had so much around me to inspire some amazing shit, but I just can’t seem to produce. It’s like, my mind is on staccato and my thoughts aren’t linear. I don’t quite understand why. And then I started reading this blog the other day, and well… DASSSIT.
“I’m looking desperately for that inspiration. The kind that I used to have. The kind that used to come effortlessly. As effortlessly as “we” began, and as effortlessly as it used to be – because of who “we” used to be. Notes, words, rhymes, sentences pouring out, waiting to be placed on paper or into a melody.
My notepad is filled. Filled with words and lines scribbled in moments of bitterness, anger, hate, optimism, anguish, regret, understanding, hope, doubt, loneliness. All seemingly capable of inspiring something new, something profound, yet never quite so. Never enough to warrant my acknowledgment past the tip of my pen. Maybe because if I acknowledge it, it will become what I feared – a dream that lasted only an instant.”