I haven’t written anything for more than two months now. And I feel bad because of it. But also I don’t. The reason I haven’t produced anything creative is that something happened in my life that took my number one source of inspiration. Pain. Heaviness. „Selfstayed-ness“. And that something is – you might have guessed it – actually someone. I am in love.
I am so much in love with that someone that every time in the past I thought I was in love feels incredibly hollow and forced. Like I wanted to be in love but never were. And now… it’s just: „I know. There is no doubt whatsoever.“ Finally some light-hearted carelessness.
In the past few months, I have learned and grown so much. I am traveling. I am moving to another city, a whole different part of the country. I’m in motion. My mind is in motion and it’s not fixated anymore. It’s incredibly clichè but that’s how it feels: Like my life had finally begun. And if that means I don’t write anymore – well, ok. I never believed in my skills anyway. I just needed it to sort my thoughts. I needed writing as a means to an end in bad times (and probably will again at some point, let’s not fool ourselves, winter is coming). But right now? Hell, I’m thinking about remodeling this blog to some kind of traveling blog or something. And that’s … incredible, because a just a few months ago this could never have happened.
That someone? He’s a spark of inspiration. But not like before. He doesn’t inspire my writing, he inspires my way of being.