The potential to create weighs heavily on my shoulders these past few weeks. Ideas are formed in an instant, the culmination of everything, and anything – the root never really takes, for the seeds are never sown, and I’m left thinking, thinking, thinking. I’m not sure why, I just know that this has happened before, nothing in this landscape is new to me, and indeed I’ll most likely find that all roads lead to here, eventually, if I continue to tread such paths. To break free, to be free, how one arrives at such a destination, I am not sure. Writing this may be a start, or perhaps it is idle procrastination, an attempt to keep myself away from the matter at hand, thinking, thinking, thinking, I just can’t stop. Seldom is it committed to paper these days, there isn’t a marking criteria, and the obsession is turned inwards, the energy becomes about over analysing, before I’ve even given metaphorical life the chance to gestate after the initial conception. I need to start putting it all down, I’m carrying a burden that is too great to bear, always squarely on my shoulders, always pushing downwards, gravity has a quality for me that isn’t necessarily grounding, but altogether crushing. These thoughts can’t just be left to tick over in my head, because they will, and indeed are, pushing me down that increasingly slippery slope, and I’m not sure how many more times I can face that journey.
