Words and images escape me. I’ve been thinking all day of what to write but I can’t sustain my train of thought. Truth is, I’ve forgotten how to write.

I miss my old self, the old me who believed in the innocence of keeping a diary. I would write in it day and night, not to practice writing, but to keep track of memories and dreams. I wrote in it everyday because that was the purpose of the diary. I had many things to write then. I was in high school!

But then I grew up. I went to college. I fell in love. I found out it was normal to share experiences with friends and not just with a notebook. Ironic though since the more things I learned, the more material I could have had written down. I chose not to.

So now I struggle with my writing. Could it be because I’m thinking like a writer? The words show not tell always echo in my mind when I write. They repeat and repeat because I know they make great stories or poems or non-fiction. But what if I forget all that?

What if I just write?


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