Transition

...hopeful

Substack feels so much like a journal to me. It’s privately public or publicly private, I don’t know which. But I casually dump here, and today, I think I want to say how much I find that I can barely do away with writing. It’s become more of an impulse or a habit or a ritual or maybe a routine. The sort of thing I can bear to do without the financial rewards (though I hope for it); a thing I can do (when) tired, on an empty stomach, late into the night— with or without my full focus.

I am beginning to realise that apart from this, all else seems a burden, it’s hard to find the enthusiasm and the verve for anything else. It all feels forced and fatiguing. I wonder, I really do… I’m convinced this is my path, but sometimes, I wish I could move faster. I look around and everyone is doing their reasonable 9-5, it’s not like I’ve never tried one, I just have never been accepted with respectable wages and don’t see how I fit in the whole scheme of such things.

I feel myself having my very last round in a dizzying revolving door, and I am about to turn up on the other side, with a new view, ready for new experiences and a harvest that has long been piling up for me. I must say— Thank You YAH.