Several days I have been toying with ideas on the proper way, the perfect subject, the most logical and yet compelling way to jump back into this world. My world. As usual nothing seems right enough to write. So instead I've decided to do what I've always known in the back of my mind to be the only way, to just jump back onto the horse before it, you know, runs away.
I think we all know what that feels like to some extent. There comes a point where action stalls for one reason or another and no matter what a good groove you found yourself in before said stall, or even how much love you have for the action itself, or the results it produces, if you let the stall last even a moment longer you will have to essentially hit that reset button in your brain and start all over.
How easily momentum can slow when we allow ourselves to become distracted.
It's inevitable, minutes become hours. Hours become days and next thing you know it's been weeks since you've touched fingers to keys, brush to paint, hands to hair...
Even my anti-sarcasm project has fallen by the wayside, and once again I sit wallowing in disappointment with myself. That is until words start spreading themselves across my screen as they are in this very moment, as if appearing on their own, completely separate from my efforts and mental hem hawing.... and once again I feel like myself. A feeling I instantly remember loving, though I had allowed myself to forget.
I am home.