So i've been a bit dissatisfied as of late, with the lack of inspiration surrounding me...drowning me. I'm having a hard time making these realizations, these criticisms, of my relationship with myself. At times it feels like I turned my back on myself somewhere along the way, and I'm having trouble finding who that person is. At a time that I shoud be flourishing and growing comfortably into my own skin, I'm finding it harder and harder to come out of my shell. Coupled with what some would call depression, a depression that I used to be able to make light of by writing a litany of poems or journal entries or notes to friends, or by going to my classes at the ol' community college because I so thoroughly reveled in the witty banter that inevitably ensued with my professors and equally cynical friends. Instead of those things, it somehow reached this point where something else took over. Like someone else took the wheel, and shifted my motivations, my focus, my self. But I'm not so sure it's as easy as just pinpointing one wrong in this whole picture. The wrong school, perhaps, or just a wrong choice somewhere along the way. Either way, I am left feeling passionless about my state of being at this very moment. I'm sure it's fleeting just as I'm sure it will undoubtedly return. Sometimes you can just tell these things.
I read somewhere, I believer it was
Death in Venice and Other Stories in which Thomas Mann wrote, "It's one thing to be meloncholy, but another to be meloncholy and interesting."
I swear I can see the green of the Emerald Isle getting greener and greener. It will be a pleasant interruption.
