The majority of the time I have difficulty expressing myself, which is probably a bad thing since I am a writer. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation that’s making it so difficult.
Or maybe I just don’t enjoy it anymore.
A lot of things have changed in the last year that I often blame as my reason for not writing as often as I used to, outside of reporting or writing poems for my poetry class.
It’s a strange feeling when people all but disappear from your life. When it happens gradually, you almost don’t notice it, but when it happens instantaneously you feel as though you’re alone in the middle of a ghost town at night. Maybe that’s just me who feels that way. There’s only so many one-sided conversations you can possibly have.
I came across a quotation that probably sums it up better than I possibly could. In “Cakes and Ale: Or, the Skeleton in the Cupboard,” W. Somerset Maugham wrote, “It’s no good trying to keep up old friendships. It’s painful for both sides. The fact is, one grows out of people, and the only thing is to face it.”