Flatline.
At some point, we'll have something inside of us die. It may be a personality, a habit, or a part of our soul that we've swept aside for the time being only to realize that we've completely neglected about it. To me, that's my writing.
If you know me well enough, you'd immediately associate my name with my craft. I mean not to decorate myself but I am the two-year editor-in-chief of the UST Nursing Journal and I've been part of the campus journals of my alma maters. It's just unfortunate that I had to feel the recoil of my intense burn out after that two year term. It was painful to feel disgusted with writing - something that allowed me to breathe life into my system. Even my means of expression was halted because of the things that I went through. But now, that was years ago. Time has healed the wounds and I no longer abhor writing. I actually miss it. I long for it.
Short or long. It doesn't matter. Whatever topic it's about. I'm just going to write simply because I miss it. Simply because I need to reignite the burnt out passion that was once within me. I need to resuscitate him.
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