4 A.M. Thoughts

Dispirited.

Creating things was her outlet.
Whether it was clay sculptures,
acrylic canvases,
watercolor paintings,
or simple sketches.
She even dabbled in origami,
paper mache,
pastels and charcoal scribbles,
and digital art.
.
.
.

Then something happened.
She became scared, trapped, lost...
Oh, so hopelessly lost.

.
.
.

She felt as if that inspiration
that once lived in such perfect liberty, was now entrapped.
Like her creativity was sitting in an isolated corner in her brain...
Left to wither in the cage that she seems to have lost the key to...
Hell, she barely remembers locking it up in the first place.
Her brain seems to be shrouded in this darkness.
But she can't find her light.
It's all the way at the end of the tunnel and she's afraid she won't make it that far.
She's almost certain she will not win this fight.
.
.
.

She knew she wasn't good enough.
Talented enough.
Pretty enought.
Worth enough.
She wasn't enough.
She's never been enough.

.
.
.

"What's the point?"
"It's useless fighting these demons."
"Why am I like this?"
She says to her self, knowing no one is listening.
No one's ever listened before.
Why would they now?
Heh.
.
.
.

{{Authors Note: YES I know. This one is even shittier than the last. But I had to write it down or else I'd keep thinking about it. No one reads these anyways. Yea, this was really trash and I sorta regret it, but I need to start "writing" more I guess. It's like self counseling in the worst way possible. Hah♡- Lost}}