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Why I Didn’t Write About It
For the last few weeks I’ve been seriously doubting my ability as a writer. Personally I haven’t loved anything I’ve written in about a month. I’ve been hiding from tumblr because I don’t have time to read the works of all the talented people I follow and I don’t have enough energy or courage to post anything decent. Every week or so I return with renewed energy, determined to read and write for my followers, but then the real world catches up. I admire all the people on here who can maintain not only their own blogs but also secondary ones and on top of that some editing jobs. I’m not that person. I just plain don’t have the time or energy. On top of that I honestly feel… content. Sort of. At first I thought in was numbness but I guess this is what normal people feel. I’ve been doing yoga, therapy, and staying sober. I even got a boyfriend on the way. I think I stopped being depressed. Honestly, it’s kind of scary not being depressed or anxious. It’s like I’m this weird new person. I also realized that now I have to learn how to write more content rather than emotion based pieces. That will take some getting used to. I dunno, I feel like I’ve changed so much and I just kind of need a break from this vague blog responsibility. I’ll be posting and looking at specific blogs from time to time, but honestly, I don’t owe anyone anything. I bare my soul on this site. If that’s not enough, I’m sorry. #prose #spilled ink #personal
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