I woke up late again today... I went to sit at my desk with my morning coffee and stared at the exotic-looking pink flowers in front of me for a while. I didn't realise that tears were streaming down my face till the shouting of children outside woke me from my blank torpor.
I wondered about the notion of 'soul'... Mind, spirit, soul... doesn't it all mean the same thing? I thought that if there was such a thing as a devine spark in each of us, then where did mine go, and if it was still inside me, then why does it feel like it's burning?
See... I don't need to know about such things as hell or eternal damnation... I already live in what feels like hell, and nothing can take that feeling away. Joyful moments only help to numb the constant burning within.
I remember studying the philosopher's writings back in high school. He was one of the big ones we had to study, especially for exams. The Social Contract, Confessions... I particularly liked the latter, because when reading his confessions, I could feel a man's heart being poured onto pages.
I wonder where all my inspiration has gone... Three years ago or so, i was hit by it so forcefully that I began writing almost every single day... sometimes I couldn't stop the whole day because I was in the middle of a certain chapter and I just needed to let everything out... I never felt more free and 'happy' than when I was deeply engrossed in writing a story. It just... flowed right out of me, and it felt as though I was truly living through my characters' eyes...
With them I traveled so far across a world I'd created inside my head and that was the basis of the story... It felt so real...
What a contrast to be sitting here today feeling so empty and depressed... I have to believe however that inspiration will come back to me, to either finish that story, or start a new one...
I need to create stories to feel alive, as weird as that may sound... Nobody has any idea what an incredibly mystic experience it is to write a story... to get so deeply involved with its creation that you can FEEL yourself within the story itself!... Well, nobody has any idea except another writer.
I miss it... It is the only thing in my life so far that has ever managed to bring me a sense of peace within. Spending my time researching all sorts of things for the purpose of writing a story... and then losing myself in the writing process itself... Such a peaceful, fulfilling experience.
What I dislike about it, though, is the fact that I always seem to be at the mercy of inspiration's lunacy.
I wondered about the notion of 'soul'... Mind, spirit, soul... doesn't it all mean the same thing? I thought that if there was such a thing as a devine spark in each of us, then where did mine go, and if it was still inside me, then why does it feel like it's burning?
See... I don't need to know about such things as hell or eternal damnation... I already live in what feels like hell, and nothing can take that feeling away. Joyful moments only help to numb the constant burning within.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains
- Jean-Jacques Rousseau
- Jean-Jacques Rousseau
I remember studying the philosopher's writings back in high school. He was one of the big ones we had to study, especially for exams. The Social Contract, Confessions... I particularly liked the latter, because when reading his confessions, I could feel a man's heart being poured onto pages.
I wonder where all my inspiration has gone... Three years ago or so, i was hit by it so forcefully that I began writing almost every single day... sometimes I couldn't stop the whole day because I was in the middle of a certain chapter and I just needed to let everything out... I never felt more free and 'happy' than when I was deeply engrossed in writing a story. It just... flowed right out of me, and it felt as though I was truly living through my characters' eyes...
With them I traveled so far across a world I'd created inside my head and that was the basis of the story... It felt so real...
What a contrast to be sitting here today feeling so empty and depressed... I have to believe however that inspiration will come back to me, to either finish that story, or start a new one...
I need to create stories to feel alive, as weird as that may sound... Nobody has any idea what an incredibly mystic experience it is to write a story... to get so deeply involved with its creation that you can FEEL yourself within the story itself!... Well, nobody has any idea except another writer.
I miss it... It is the only thing in my life so far that has ever managed to bring me a sense of peace within. Spending my time researching all sorts of things for the purpose of writing a story... and then losing myself in the writing process itself... Such a peaceful, fulfilling experience.
What I dislike about it, though, is the fact that I always seem to be at the mercy of inspiration's lunacy.
hey
ReplyDeletethat was a good piece of writing. i guess if you be yourself and avoid all these abstract ideas the narrative fluidity comes back as easy as butter.
lol