jessa

After weeks of hiatus, lack of imagination leading to a lack of drive, I’m finally back to writing here again! And it even feels like my ideas just keep pouring out of my head, spilling into my fingers, so that I itch to type them immediately.

This has been the kind of everyday I used to dream about, perhaps writing in coffee shops like the ones I used to read in pocketbooks—creative writers always sipping a hot cup while trying to fill a digital document with words.

And today, I am here, not in a coffee shop writing, but I feel like I have the liberty to write without waiting for permission

The silence felt like I was losing my spark—or more likely, I am in the winter season of my writing, which I learned to be at peace with.

But then came spring.

I think the three-week trip liberated my mind from the prison of stagnation: with the endless motion of grinding wheels against uneven roads, sunrises and sunsets painting the skies in different hues, crashing waves onto the ever-shifting sands, and new souls carrying stories I hadn’t heard—all of it watered the creative drought within me.

It felt like awakening from a creative paralysis.

Now I keep churning thoughts after another, and for once, the noise feels like the right kind of company.