Giving yourself a second chance for success makes life so beautiful. I often hold myself back because perhaps I am scared of success. I stopped writing because I started to feel pressure, and I know pressure brings on the feeling of commitment. But maybe commitment to a blog I have full control of is part of why I started all of this. I wanted an outlet, a place to come and vent, derail by depression. I want to make a promise to myself to try to write more, but I'm not ready for everyday, so for now I'll say once a week I will start writing again. I think the most appropriate time is Wednesday nights. So be prepared to see more material.
It's funny how scared and confined we become in self-doubt. I want this year to be a successful one, I want to thrive and enjoy this life. I want to find the beauty in life again... Sometimes I feel like it's so easy to lose it.
As an update I'd like you to know that I've been doing well, I'm now in College for Mental health and Addictions hoping to help people that can trust me. People that I can empathize with.
I hope that you guys tune in and let's see where this blog may go.
Any post is a post. I promise I'll start thinking more creatively again. I've got some ideas for weekly posts. You'll just have to wait and see <3
Love Cecilia
"I feel that a genuine, affectionate smile is very important in our day-to-day lives. How one creates that smile largely depends on one's own attitude. It is illogical to expect smiles from others if one does not smile oneself. Therefore, one can see that many things depend on one's own behaviour."
--Dalai Lama
--Dalai Lama
Black frosting glazed the path I was walking, the blood was pouring into my shoes from the blisters that had formed on my ankles. The walk had been long so far, but I realized that the distance was much further than I had originally anticipated. It was cold, and my breaths lingered in wisps and curls in the night air. It was surreal, the quiet was, after all the moments of chaos and white-noise my life had become. I was calm, the silence and the loneliness had washed over me. I couldn't feel the pain of the abrasions and scuffs caused by my ill-fitting shoes anymore, all I felt was contented. I wish I could feel that way again, that feeling of soft, warm, comforting finger tips whispering on the inside of my chest. I felt so temperate, I felt I was one with my body and with my thoughts, I felt humbled. I guess there always was a part of me that said to write fictional works, but I had blurred the lines between fact and fiction, I had lost sense of reality on my walk. I had become a different person on my way.
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