I gave up on writing.
It probably doesn’t make any sense because well, that’s something I know I’m good at.
I probably did it because she gave me the strength to write. Yes, she was my my inspiration behind every word I utter. She told me it is never too late to follow one’s dreams. And so I wrote. I wrote about my life. I wrote about my thoughts. I wrote about writing itself.
And I stopped. Because it reminded me of her. I do not want that. When I’m trying everyday of my life to get over her, the last thing I would require is something giving me a direct access to the memories I’ve of her..
And so I left writing.
So what am I now? Am I a business professional? Am I a rider? The truth is, I don’t know. I learnt business for a living and I ride because it gave me inner peace. I was never good at riding anyway, always nervous.
I’ve always pictured myself as a writer and its kind of impossible to picture myself as something else.
Then I realized. Why do I need to give up on my one little dream because someone walked out of my life? Why did I write for her? If it were truly my dream, I should be writing for myself.
It made no sense.
And so I’m back. Its mostly as if I was never gone. I simply took a vacation to refresh my thoughts.
You know whats ironic? Its the fact that when I wanted to write I had literally nothing to write about and when I never wanted to write, my head was brimming with thoughts I could put into worthy words with ease.
Thank you for being a patient listener all along. I never value time but I people give time only when they believe its worth it.