Drawing my sword...

Writing has become a distractions. Life is moving so fast that I barely have time to keep up, let alone write down all the things I don't get to resolve on my own. I am torn between being someone who experiences his journey to the fullest, and that boy we have all learned to tolerate, that sits at home alone, with only his thoughts keeping him company. I miss him. I miss how I was able to be with myself and feel like the entire world was at my feet. Because as it stands now, I have become accustomed to spending time with those who fill my heart with joy and happiness - things I cannot find the inspiration to write about. I mean ... anyone can be in love, but can everyone create something of meaning? Even as I scribble down these words, I watch seconds go by that I could rather spend nourishing my relationships. I am at a loss, for this is a version of myself I never expected to morph into, yet have no choice, but to see it till the end, until I once again lie in bed, heartbroken and wishing for the life I once knew.