A Returning… What Do You Need To Return To That You Once Abandoned?

My return to my first love…

me on my bed.

It’s a day after Christmas.

I’m seated on my bed, staring at myself in the mirror.

I’ve been seating here for an hour, since I got back from my nephew’s 7th birthday. It was a blast. Always a pleasure hanging out with family.

It was also the first time I enjoyed a full meal in like 6days because my gums had an infection and all I could eat was mashed food and lukewarm tea.

Don’t get me started on the lukewarm tea because…

Anyways, I got home, closed my curtains, started scrawling social media like any normal millennial, right?

Of course, it was mindless scrawling.

I wasn’t looking for anything in particular.

I double-tapped in different cute photos and reels. (You can tell which app I was on).

I noticed I follow a number of poetry pages on IG. I love it. Poetry fills my soul up.

I miss writing poetry.

Did I mention I used to not only write but also perform poetry?

Mhmmm. I was that girl. Then imposter syndrome showed up and it decided to overstay its welcome. It’s cousin comparison visited, and I put the pen and paper away.

I know. Such betrayal.

But I did.

And I think I’ve somehow been lost since then. Like I’ve been drifting through life while a piece of my soul was left at some shore somewhere.

And now, writing scares me.

I’m afraid that I’ve lost it. The magic of it. When the pen meets the page and the sparks fly and my hand is just but a tool to convey the words.

I miss it, a lot. Not just the poetry but writing in general.

But I’m also scared.

Yet, as I sit here, looking at myself in the mirror, staring into my own eyes, I feel my soul calling out.

I feel the magic deep within.

It’s faint, but still audible.

Embers can still start a flame.

I didn’t lose the magic. I may have forgotten it, but I didn’t lose it.

It’s always been waiting, for when I’d be ready.

And now, now I need a journal.

Because while typing is awesome, nothing beats the feel of pen to paper. In my opinion.

And, I want a journal that’s just for me.

One customised to feel like me.

And only I know what that will look and feel like. So I guess, I’m getting into creating mode. I will design a journal.

And no, it