Finding my feet.

Specifically, trying to find my poetical feet.

I feel like I’ve greatly lost my touch for the things I love. My knack and intellectual outpour of ideas has painfully dried and solidified to the pavement like a crusty egg to a non-stick pan. I used to glide gracefully with empowerment, from one great musing to the next in inspiring and controversial thought. I’m slowly beginning to question myself and what I really want to do when I “grow up” or question who I really am.

Am I the workaholic fully committed English student I really desire to be, or is that just not me? Do I even want to write anymore?

I love debating and discussing ideas with other people but fail to write them down. I’ve not picked up my old black battered moleskin poetry diary that I began scribbling in as far back as 2012 and even now, when I so badly WANT to write, I just can’t.

I’m looking for motivation and inspiration in a world that is totally uninspiring and where I can (seemingly) get away with doing the bare minimum.

I recently had another attendance meeting at my university. It’s true, I’m completely uninterested or bothered to go to lectures. I’m lazy and I’m working through a rough patch with my relationship to my bed, it just can’t seem to let me go… However, I could see in the woman’s eyes how deeply she wanted this for me. How badly she wants me to do well and excel at life whilst I can’t be bothered to stretch out that bit farther and grab the spoon to feed my appetite. Has it gone forever or am I just neglecting it? Regardless, she inspired me to at least just WRITE. Anything. Personal experiences, a diary, whatever. So I’m back on the blog-sphere with a different frame of mind and that is: To Just Write.

There’s my thesis. That’s my goal. Write everything and surely out of it all, I’ll find my feet again.

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