The Spark

Most writers will understand me when I say that sometimes a moment when all you want to do is write, is started with a spark. A spark ignited by some feeling some necessity to get things down on paper. It's been a long time since I've written not only on this blog but in general unless I was writing some random paper for school.
       There are so many enlightening moments I've been going through lately, and the sad thing is I don't know if it's because of the drugs or because I've begun looking at everything a little differently. I want to be able to say that everything is better now, that I don't cry and that I don't feel depressed and although in part this is true I can't help but shed the parts of me that make me feel alive sometimes. In a sick and sad way I only feel when I am in the pain of depression, it's one of the only feelings I can rely on, the only one that has been constant and consistent. 
       I started taking drugs for my depression and anxiety, and it's weird but I feel like I've removed a very important part of myself, the place where my empathy comes from.

I think I'm scared of being completely me.
(But I definitely don't know how to be anything different)


I used to be okay with being "me" being confident in all of my choices and that inevitably led me into a path of being scared to live, but I guess that was his fault and not me.. It's funny how that works.


I don't want to lead a life that is primed and sequestered.


I want to cause that spark in people... That little bit of inspiration.


I'd have to be happy to that again, and somehow find a sense of satisfaction and reward.


It's time for me to let go, I'm sick of being the cage and the abused.