Once upon a time I could write. I was reflective. I was expressive. I didn’t know it. But I loved to write.
I just came across an old journal and man, I wouldn’t have believed it was mine had it not been my writing.
Wow. Where did that passion go?
Just became busy and put it to the back burner I guess.
If it wasn’t so personal I’d share it.
Maybe one day I will share some. But not today.
I’m enjoying reading it. It’s actually pretty enlightening.
Man, I was very pensive during my University life and I wrote a lot.
Where did I find the time?!
Oh wait, I would do anything to procrastinate. And now I don’t really have anything to procrastinate from so there you have it.
I guess this is my form of writing now but it’s nothing like it used to be.
I guess it’s because I know that this is viewed by people…people who know me…people who would know who or what I was talking about… it would be too vulnerable.