Wishing I Could Write Without The Pain
It's been a while since I've written anything. I decided that I wanted to write more positive pieces and my brain completely shut down. Every ounce of creativity disappear and I was left sitting at my laptop with a confused look on my face.
It’s quite embarrassing really.
I was faced with the realization that everything I’ve ever written had come from a place of sadness, anger, and pain. Thinking back to when I wrote my first poem in grade school, it too was filled with the pain of neglect and mental abuse. I don’t recall a time when happiness and joy ever led me to write. I know that I’ve experienced some form of joy throughout my life, but it’s so rare that my brain doesn’t know what to do with it.
How sad is that?
What does that say about the 42 years that I’ve been on this planet? How can that even be called a life? Am I living or am I going through the motions of one painful experience to the next until it all comes to an end?