I wish I could explain my methods, I wish I could immerse you in my systems.
Yet, I have no definition.
What I do know is between 2 and 5am is my creative window. When my art flows like wind on a clear day. All chaotic, free and untraceable. This is when I’m compelled to document all that comes to me, in the notion that something will stick. This is also when my flat is silent: not a she’s gone quiet is she okay type or a has he fallen asleep while we watch a movie type. It’s a I’m alone with my thoughts type.
At the onset of this writing journey I only had one goal in mind. To positively inspire or affect someones life. I felt if a single person found comfort in my discomfort, I would have changed the world for better. I felt that like me your corner of the earth is significant and in times where one may forget, here reminder could be found.
The last time I wrote so much I was in school, I was about 15 or 16 I thought it was writers block but I didn’t write for at least 6 years. So imagine my joy at being able to write again.
I hope it’ll last my lifetime but I realise that at this stage in my life it’s my purpose. Its my opportunity to bathe in my abilities, to absorb my talent, to refine my craft and cleanse my ego. The ease that these past few months have been creatively, can only be recognised as one thing.
Everyone has a period of time where things just fall into place, where nothing is perfect but everything makes sense. Currently I’m flourishing in my season.
I enjoy what I do however I’m always dubious to feel pride. That would mean I care in a fashion I’m yet to admit. It would also mean the belief in myself that was so fragile has become unyielding. My intentions were to name this piece inspiration but in this sentence I realise the narrative is therapy.