I lost the passion for writing for about years now. I am currently experiencing a sudden heartbreak that changed my life for eternity. The used-to-be glitter pens that I should've used to write, paint a fantasy-realistic ish imagery turned faded black and white. I died inside, really. I did. Yet, seeing my previous works cringed, reading it back then was enough to lift my spirits. I changed majors last 2022, but my heart poured out in writing and made me miss my old self. The achiever, competitive, and independent self pour out her heart writing with no regrets, no emotional barriers, and now. I'm in the corner waiting for a sign for a lobotomy and changing everything. Deluded myself that it's alright, but now it's all senseless. What could more? More pain this heart endured for knives to stab onto? I am re-thinking my life choices. Wanted to explore and widen my social circle to have a sense of escapism. But overall, it's all meaningless. What more could my heart be given into? I miss the old me, I totally do.