I was reading this entry and got super wistful just now.

I just remembered a lot of things that used to be going on in my life that I really miss. I mean, I know I've bitched about this before, in depth (so it's not as if I have the excuse of going in depth again) but no matter how many times I've done it I still have more in me. I don't see the past through rose-tinted glasses, for sure. I don't want to go back to 2009, not to that house, with that father, having that job. Having those stresses.

But look at the way I wished I didn't have to sleep. Compare it to now, when I'm tired in the middle of the day and don't even have the will power or inspiration to care? Look how, now, my mind is so tired that even if my body were wide awake, I'd just sit here? When I read my own written words, I can actually imagine what that felt like: I actually had life stirring in my head, I actually did have ideas all the time, actually did write little things, doodle in my notebooks, and itch to create things. ALL the time. As many as I could get away with. Multiple stories at the same time.

Writing partners.

Who made it all fun, social, easy, passionate.

Not lonely and daunting, which is how everything creative seems now.

:{{