recently, there has been this urgent and insatiable need for writing. to pour out the emotions, thoughts, and just write for the fact that i enjoy it.
it was further fueled when browsing through all the old lj post that i made. the nostalgic past where i will just bring a notebook everywhere and start penning down the little moments that gives me a burst of inspiration.
at that time, it felt as though i could write. not write like those authors with beautiful diction and imagery, but i can still write.
i know what i want to express, i have ideas, and i know my target audience.
but now, it feels as though it is all sapped out of me. writing becomes a mere channel to express my frustration and sorrow. i only get inspiration when i am feeling drained, and my target audience never changed. i am always writing about my own feelings, like right now.
in the greater scheme of things(school), and letting myself get carried away with life, i have somehow lost all my passion for it.
what happened to the churning a drabble every few days? and the excessive excitement that is always coursing through me when i think of an idea?
my inspiration bunny had left home due to my neglect ):

there can be many forms of writing, but most of the time, i think we write to gain recognition, to tell the world our thoughts.
i remember distinctively that i loved sharing my prose anonymously due to the satisfaction that i get when someone whom I'm unrelated to appreciates it. at least, you will know that their affection towards what you wrote is genuine, instead of being clouded by what they feel towards you as a person.
yes.

a/n: i honestly wanted this post to be funny. somewhat like a !crack fic where i will just complain about my inspiration bunny packing up her bag and leaving home. and how i forced my best friend to be my co-author for the longest time ever, and how much i loved her. and how i think i write badly, and yet my ex-favorite author praised me once, and i'm still happy till now. and how, my old laptop have tons of old stuff that i should dig out, and maybe work on again. like those old pictures that i should start sorting out and old stories. and oh btw, i hate the word diction. i have never known how to use it when i am a Lit student and everyone around me was going 'the diction gives the prose a poignant tone'. at those moments, i will be like wtf?