The significance of writing has been blown out inside of me. No fire is burning any more. But yet I find a peace in writing, and try to keep that fire burning.
I feel as if it only takes time, and I would rather just think of the words inside and not have to write them out. I feel that no words can explain what I am thinking, that they cannot describe what is in my mind. But you can only understand if you see what I see, and hear what I hear.
I hold on in the hope that all the interest will come back.
So let that fire keep on burning, lest I give up forever.