After many struggles and a lot of “nearly” and “almost but not quite,” I have lost the motivation to write. While I know one needs thick skin in this industry, to continually be close to attaining and achieving only to be kicked down again is to have one’s heart broken over and over, and . . . The desire to write has finally been beaten out of me, I think.
I don’t know where this leaves me. As a person. I do not want to be one of those people who exist only in relationship to others (“mother” and “friend”); I really need something that is uniquely me and mine. But when I reach down inside myself, now without the words that used to fill me, I keep coming up empty.
And if I am just a shell now, with nothing inside me, am I a waste of space?