Its scary to realize what a whiny person I�ve become. I look back at my entries, and very few of them are happy these days. I whine too much. I complain too much. And I do very little writing these days. Actual writing.
I ran across this entry while hitting the random button on my journal. Occasionally I like to look back at what I�ve written over the years. This particular entry made me wonder why I don�t write like that any more. Sure, I�m complaining in the entry about how I don�t get any sleep and why I don�t get any sleep anymore. But the way in which it is written�I don�t even know if I can write like that any more. I�m out of practice, out of shape. The sad thing is, I don�t even know how to get back to that point any more. Are my days as a writer over? Was I ever a writer in the first place or was it yet another dream I�ve foolishly clung to all these years?
Whatever happened to entries like this where instead of it being complaint after complaint, I actually form a valid argument and support it?? What happened to being passionate about anything worthwhile? What happened to being passionate at all about anything? I�ve lost all of this. I want it back. I look back at everything I once had, all those skills I once had as a writer and I realize I want them back. I need them back or I�m nothing.
I�m just another bitter journalist.