As I stood in the middle of all of those books I couldn't help but think about the thousands of authors, millions of sentences, and billions of words that were all weaved together in one space in time.
As I write this my heart beats with the built up energy of years spent forgetting just how special — reading and writing are to me.
In this moment I wish I could pour my entire being into one word that could make you instantaneously feel exactly how my entire being is swelling with emotion. Waves and of joy, relief, sadness, and grieving all wrapped up in one bundle of feeling.
I had been chasing everything outside of me for so long that I forgot how it feels to have a surge of creative writing energy swell up in my body — frantically trying to release itself into the world through means of committing to memory the smallest details in my experience.
How my hands looked on the steering wheel today — tan, nails unpainted, with a little bit of grit and age.
What sensations I felt in my body — throat and heart pulsing, stomach unsettled, pain from sunburnt lips, and a surging energy that wouldn't allow me to concentrate.
How the sky looked — pearly white and fluffy clouds in a sea of endless shades of blue.
Experiencing the full sensuality of being.
And I thought to myself — no one likes to have sex the same way every single time. It becomes boring. Mundane. A chore.
Yet I've been treating my creative energy in this way and today it clicked.
It's about fucking time that I switch the position in my creative intercourse and allow myself to experience making sweet creative love like it's the first time.
The first time I've ever felt my fingers dance across a keyboard in my whole life.
The first time I've ever looked at the world through these eyes.
The first time I've felt these feelings or thought these thoughts.
The first time I've felt pure bliss mixed with gratitude for this miracle of being.
Creative juices flowing out of me in a way that would equate to a soaking wet bed if this were sex.
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