Third Hun

I have not written anything in a while. I think it is because I was afraid. I am not sure exactly what I was afraid of, but I guess it was a form of failure. However, failure is a stupid thing to be afraid of, and in a way, giving up is a form of failure. I have been thinking about what that means, and I did not get past those two past lines. The fact is I stopped writing because I thought had nothing left to say. At some time I used my writing as a form of expressing my feelings to someone I could not speak to directly. It became a form of one way communication with that person. Once the purpose of that was lost, I stopped writing. I tried to take it up again a couple of times, but ultimately I decided to just do other stuff instead. I tried to pay more attention to school. I tried organizing an art show. I tried writing more music. I achieved only one of those three things. I did not get the urge to write something down for a long time, and it started worrying me. I felt useless. I felt like there was something missing inside me, and that something seemed to be a key part in the functioning of my body as a whole. I also stopped reading. I thought I did not want to be depressed anymore about how someone was a much better writer than I would ever be. I guess I was running from writing.

As I write this, I feel an overwhelming sense of insecurity. I know I am doing this again, but I do not know for how long. I want it to last. I want to get better. I want to find a new reason to write again and have one way communications with someone else. But, at this point, I cannot tell if writing is killing me or making me stronger.