Where's The Inspiration?

I've lost inspiration in life and it is a very tough thing for one to overcome.  Things that once moved me forward, no longer do.  Things that I used to find awe inspiring, just don't do that anymore.  Feeling that I need to write about it, where do I go?  Well, to my little writing space of the internet, of course.  And what is the first thing I see?  The blog I once created called none other than 7 Days of Inspiration.  Reading through it I hear the words of a young man just 4 years prior.  It's hard to imagine that the same person that wrote this has lost inspiration in the worst way.  Thinking back on the time which I wrote that I see how very different a human being I was at the time.  I felt as if nothing could stop me.  I didn't quite know where I was going, but I was going to get there.  I was on top of my game and had big ideas.

And now here I sit.  A little bit older and a little more inflicted with the human condition.  Things have a way of stifling a person and all that they have inside.  I mean, this I am finding to be true for myself.  And as I've learned in just 3 short decades, I am not all that unique.  I doubt that I am alone in getting to a point in life where you find yourself stuck in the middle....like a lost and found.  Only I can't tell if I've lost what I found a few years ago.  What I found out a few years ago was that I could pretty much do anything that I wanted if only I believed in myself a little bit.  I didn't matter how big the task, if I had it in my mind I was capable of doing it.  Nothing could stop me.  Somewhere between then and now I've gotten caught in minor ruts which I'd imagine happens to everyone.  Now, I don't think I've completely lost lessons learned.  Not really sure if that's possible.  It doesn't matter though, here I am right now...

I know that there is only one way to carry on, and that is to move forward.  Just one step.  If you're moving only one step forward, you aim't moving backward, that's for sure.  All it takes is a little bit of guided resolve and that one step forward is really very simple.  My step forward is this blog.  I stopped writing over the last few years and that I can see is one of the major reasons I've lost inspiration.  How can one truly be inspired if they aren't even looking for it?  Yes, I've got many other blogs which I've said time and time again "I'm going to keep up with it this time."  And I did, for short periods.  Ah, rather than see it as a failure I can now look back on them and see that they served their purpose at the time.  After all, I am not the same person I was 2 years ago, or even 6.  Nope, I'm completely different.  Changed in ways that, although it hurt a bit, it can only add to the spirit that is me.  This is where I'm at today.  I've stepped forward.  I would encourage anyone else out there who has lost inspiration in these gray days of life to just take one step.  Doesn't matter what it is as long as it's forward.

Here's to moving forward.

Paradoxymoron

There's a voice in my head, maybe.

 Possibly even two of them, i think. 

 They speak to me constantly, only sometimes. 

I don't really know what to think, i don't think. 

It lurks in the back, but stands in the forefront. 

It speaks to me slowly, often times quickly. 

 One may think that I'm sick, yet I'm perfectly healthy. 

Time seems to move ever so quickly, yet every clock i see stopped at Eleven. 

I'm stuck in the middle, I'm nowhere. 

Surrounded by friends , all alone. 

This thought process never really existed, as always.

 I sit still with one mind, it has three voices. 

Move along now, there's nothing to see.

And...I Write

I am many things all at once, though I still don't know me.  But, it is a fact that I know, I know I know nothing.  The leaves fall from the trees outside my dirty glass window, and I feel my thoughts drift with them.  They let go of life freely even though they are attached to one of the most grounded things on Earth.  A mind is a blessing and a gift all wrapped into one package that nobody yet fully understands.  Something tells me that all of the worlds have been and would be scientists may never figure it out.  I'm not quite sure it is meant to be understood that way.  We as a people try to make sense of some things that just don't make sense.  We walk the streets we have built and travel in the capacities we have created but, at the end of the day, we are left with one thing.  Ourselves.  We've many forms of distractions, and it is likely that I am utilizing one at this very moment.  

I just need to write.

It is something I have gotten away from as I have fallen cold and hard with each year that passes.  One thing that I've learned to be true is that I have to be true to myself.  I have allowed the darker side of humanity take hold of my mind and soul willingly.  It was definitely a conscious decision.  I remember thinking to myself "You know, this isn't going to end well."  Yea, I know.  I only want to feel good for a moment.  I spend so much time fighting to stuff myself further below the surface and the fact it, it hurts.  So, I hide behind a thing or two and let myself drift away.  I have to say that it may have been worth it, yet I've come to another place where I have to let go and move forward no matter how much it hurts.  Pain is only temporary.  Just as those leaves sever their physical link to the tree that gave them life.  Do they feel pain at the moment of separation?  I'd like to think that they do, and they do it anyway.  

I only want to write.

Writing is my only passion, rather the only thing I ever do that I feel passionate about.  It makes me feel free.  It gives meaning to these fingers and hands that I never give a bit of credit for carrying me through each day.  I'd like to think that I'm good at it, but at the end of the day it doesn't really matter.  I get such a rush when my hands are so eager that they want to produce and my brain cannot keep up.  I don't have a style, nor do I have any formal skill.  None of that means anything because it means something to me.  It always has.  Its been my release for a very long time.  Does anybody care to read it?  Does anyone really know these words exist?  Maybe one day.  For now, they'll help me dig myself out of a metaphorical pit I'd have liked to throw my conscience into never to be heard from or seen again.  Thoughts have been pacing in my brain for a few years now working their way deeper so that I may never find them.  It merely shadows what I've done to myself in that same period of time, but it's all good.  I'll carry on.

And....I write.

I'll write again.