That's what I told one of my best friends when I first moved to Salt Lake; I was having a difficult time because my roommate frequently found herself venturing to other corners of the state due to family concerns, former-mission-comp concerns, and other such concerns. I wasn't mad at her, but I was lonely. Very, very lonely.
In addition, I felt isolated: no car and no real knowledge of anybody who lived remotely near me. And I felt apathetic: no urge to explore, to randomly talk to people on the train or bus. And my job, not so hot then. (Honestly, not the best now, except they gave me a 30%+ raise, and I couldn't leave after that)
But when I told her that, everything turned around because I started doing something I hadn't done with consistency since I'd graduated from college: I started writing poetry again. Granted, some of it is very, very bad. And will never see daylight until I revise the crap right out of it.
But some of it is good and has helped me retain my sanity. Story writing, while fun, has never offered me this type of catharsis. It has been escapist, certainly, as stories by nature are--but it has never been this cathartic.
I think that's why some of it is so bad--because it was so cathartic. But now that I'm writing it for more-than-cathartic purposes, I hope it's getting better. Because I'll need something to keep me sane . . .
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2 comments:
You're much braver than I am to write it at all.
I have been writing more, too. It had to take something dramatic to get me off my butt and start writing again--- but I'm writing again, even poetry.
It is very cathartic. :)
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