I am in a state of self doubt and questioning myself in regards to my writing and in some other aspects of my life. It leaves me feeling like i am losing control of my talent and that I have lost touch with the Muse.
Depression and fatigue create a sense of havoc in my mind and I want to just be able to close my eyes and escape. A part of me wants to shut off the writer crying to get out because the openess of my words scares me because or leaves me vulnerable. It is a very raw and emptional part of me – now what I am pondering is if I am not a writer or a good writer where does that leave me and the inner child who spent hours reading and writing poetry.
I leave you with this personal thought before I close for the night – writing has always been my safest, yet strongest form of communication and allowed me to express the words that were trapped Inside a confused, lonely and shy young girl.