I'm not ready.
When I started writing I was like, seven, and it was my means of escape from the world, from the pain and chaos, so basically I only wrote when I needed escape?? But I'm 20 now, I'm older,I can't escape things, I face them, so writing has been hard asf bc I been training myself to not need escape, and it sucks bc I got this amazing plots in my head, I got the talent,I have the resources, but the drive is gone. So today I read Like a Broken Thing and I realized nah I'm not ready to write that complex storyline yet, not ready to put myself out there in characters bc my reality is too edges up to live it. I'm living in the moment rn. Got university and killing it, made peace with my past, my family, my flaws, my God. So no I'm not ready to write yet,not to I find another source of motivation. Shout-out to the pain and suffering that taught me to feel, shout-out to the toxic bitchesss that taught me endurance, shout-out to the broken family that taught me independence, shout-out to the oppression that taught me literature. Maybe when I get in touch with the part of me that craves release, that burns with passion to read and write I will get back to it. But for now, I'm not ready.
Had to get that off my chest