I thought the spark was gone. It felt like it had sunk into some dark, deep Ocean inside me, still there but invisible and untouchable. I knew it existed yet it felt so far away that hoping for it felt almost unreal.
Every time I tried to write the words felt hollow like I was only drawing a faint outline of what I truly meant to say. Maybe I had lost myself in the growing noise of my own life, the errands the expectations the endless Scrolls and the responsibilities. Maybe I stopped making time for the one thing that kept me whole and I doing so I let the art slip away.
Maybe it never slipped away but was always patiently waiting for me to remember where I had left it.
So tonight I picked up my phone. Opened my notepad and wrote a messy first draft. It wasn't impressive but I didn't stop there. I revised rearrange listened and by the third round it started to mean something and just like that I felt alive. Happier than I had been in weeks.
What I thought was lost was never gone. It was right here, waiting in the quiet, waiting for me to tap back in. To remember.
The spark was always alive.
I just had to be brave enough to strike it again