I used to write…so freely and with pride, I would let my words fill a page. I took it for granted that my words would always flow so freely.
I used to write…about anything my mind pondered upon, my reflections, dreams and thoughts. I always thought these would always be available.
When I used to write, my mind was innocent. I was just a writer, wanting to share with whoever cares to read. I wrote for the lovers of the written word. I always thought this passion would always bring me back when I lose my way.
What happens to passion that is not allowed to grow? Passion that is controlled or tamed… Real passion or love is supposed to be beyond control, released or felt with wild abandon.
For the first time I felt my passion fading slowly. It slipped through me and I held on to it with all my might, but it was being pulled from me violently.
My love for writing was no longer a freedom I could enjoy. How could I when I was no longer free?
My mind could no longer be freely expressed, my words strangled by censorship…both my own and that of the world around me. I allowed conformity to distort my free will.
When you can no longer write what you feel, what your eyes behold and what your beliefs may be, then what is there to write about?
When there is too much going on around you to the point that you cannot pick a single point of focus…to the writer’s mind it is anarchy, it is a destructive force, killing creativity and passion.
When you can no longer be objective, for who can write from the heart and write lies?
I lost my passion for writing until I remembered that I used to write…
I remembered why I used to write and why it meant so much to me and to my world.
And my passion could no longer be tamed or controlled!!!