as i read all the posts and notes i have written when i was still the dreamy person everybody had known, i realized i'm no longer the person i used to be anymore. these days, i get mocked and judged so often by the people outside of my circle for being artistic and dreamy. it didn't occur to me in my entire life that i will second doubt who i really am and seek reassurance constantly by telling the people around me how i love to dream, how these dreams will eventually turn into inspirations that prompt me artistically, what i like doing and what defined me in a way that people known me for. and even though i did this way often than i initially thought i would, it still didn't quite convince me to believe that i'm still the person i am two years ago, which is when my passion burned the brightest, my dreams shined the shiniest.

i forgot how to put my thoughts into verbal form, more so when i forgot what it was like to feel inspired. the daily routine of writing has suddenly turned into a rare occasion, a chore i didn't wish to loathe. words didn't flow the way they used to while ideas refused to emerge. life's just so ironic. how in the world can i trade my utmost passion for something that might not work out in the end? the loud voice in my head had slipped off too quietly. i'm intimidated by the thought of being detached completely from the world i worked so hard to be in. today as i sit here in the idyllic night trying to figure out this messed up life, i realized i've lost my muses, inspirations and myself, altogether.

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