Is there anything left to say, or did my imagination run out of things to explore? It feels like there is nothing going on in my head like all my thoughts are stale. I know all of them, and there’s nothing new coming up. I am experiencing some kind of peace, but it forces me to question it because I am not used to so much silence in my mind.
This is certainly a good thing. I’ve been asking for peace of mind for so long. Why can’t I accept it as the answer to my prayers? Maybe because I don’t feel like myself in this state. My imagination is something I am proud of, and having it silenced doesn’t feel right.
Why don’t I try to find a middle ground between peace of mind and fervent imagination? Enjoy the peace of mind for as long as it lasts, and maybe learn how to summon it when needed. Also, experience my imagination as often as possible, but learn to direct its power to where I need it to go.
I need to learn how to make the best of both states because they both have their benefits. It is impossible to remain in an idle state forever, just as it is impossible to have my mind working at maximum speed all the time.
There’s no other choice for me except to go from one state to another. The hard part is to learn how to do this intentionally.
I’m waiting for good writing to find its way to the page, but it seems like is not going to happen today. So, I’ll do the only thing I know, and that’s to write my thoughts as they come up in my mind. Each of them is trying to tell me something, and by writing them down I can better understand where they come from.
Nothing that comes up is of any use right now. It seems that all I’m thinking about is small or meaningless, or that’s my perception. But it can’t be true, there must be something of value inside my mind. It’s me that is unable to see which of my thoughts can be useful.
The purpose of my writing is to get them out into the light, to see them, and to understand what they’re saying, and also where they come from. In writing, I can have a conversation with myself, clearer than any other way, and this is valuable. This way I am able to find the source of my problems and ways to fix them.
The pressure that builds inside my mind needs a way to exit but in a controlled manner. This is where writing comes in because it allows the pressure to exit slowly, with every word that I write.
When the page is full and I read, I’m able to see a reflection of myself. This reflection is the closest I can get to knowing myself because it is created by words I haven’t judged.
I lay myself on this page with all the ugly parts of me, so I can accept who I am as a whole. Once I do this the world will have no choice but to accept me.
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