I miss those days. Writing does not come so easily to me now, and it feels more like an old friend or a memory than a hobby. I've racked my brain trying to figure out what happened. Maybe it was just something I needed for a certain time in my life. Maybe I became too consumed with social media or technology. Maybe I got too busy. Maybe my focus on my health pushed the writing down on my list of priorities.
Or maybe, I'm happy. That's not to say you can't write when you're happy. Sure you can. That's also not to say I don't still have my bad days, because I certainly do. But when you compare my life now to what it once was, side by side, there a remarkable difference in my attitude and my happiness. Back then, a large portion of my writing was inspired by moments of pain and heartbreak. I wrote because I didn't have many people to talk to, or because I couldn't say the words out loud. I don't feel that same kind of pain now. I'm more willing to be open with my feelings to my loved ones, and I no longer feel so lonely that a notebook is my only friend.
So maybe it's not that I've lost my love or my passion for writing. Maybe it's that I've been looking for the "spark" in the wrong places. Maybe I can accept that my writing can come from a happier place, and that I don't need to be going through some tragedy to be able to write. With that, though, also comes permission to feel sad when that is what I'm feeling. Just as I can't force myself pain to write, I also can't force happiness to put on a show. I can only be me, and write what I know.
I'm not going to add "write more" to my list of goals because I do not want it to be another task or chore to complete. But what I am going to aim for is to be more present. To put down the phone, and to just be living in moments. I may surprise myself and find inspiration in places that I never thought possible.