reflections of a lost soul.

i used to write.
more poetically, more profoundly, more often.

i clearly see several contributing factors to my absence:
the pathetic decline of my vocabulary and spelling abilities since leaving college.
the change of pace in my everyday life. motivation makes things happen. simple times call for simple measures.
i no longer feel as though i have an audience. and if i do still have an audience, i probably wouldn't recognize them if i saw them.

any of these hindrances are conquerable. a little discipline and "practice makes perfect" attitude could put me back in the game.

but what worries me,
what really scares me,
is perhaps that i see the world differently than i used to.
i'm jaded.
i'm tired.
i'm dead to the simple pleasures and easy joys i used to love about the world.
a shadow on the wall of lace curtains cast by moonlight seems lost on me now.