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Friday, 31 March 2017

The Struggle of Feeling Uninspired

I haven't been able to finish an idea in months. The metaphorical bin is full of half thought out blogs posts, poems, stories and rants that I am so sure of at first but end up disappointed with. 

I want to write about my experiences: the complete stranger today who gave me such a genuine compliment before reflecting on the fact that nobody compliments anymore. I want to be funny: write about my mishaps and the way I pretend to be a successful independent woman. I want to give advice about love and life and uni and how to generally survive. I want to share my opinions with the world, even if the only people who see them are my mum and my boyfriend. I want to share makeup looks but I feel uninspired lately and am more and more concerned with the unsymmetricallity (is that a word???) of my face that I'd rather keep it natural and let my good skin shine through. I want to talk about just that, my skin, but I struggle to find time to plan it all out and give advice that people will find helpful. I want to talk about my health, my hair, my medication in the hope it helps someone but it won't. I want to try things and document them - travel to places (even if they are little coffee shops in the UK), attempt to follow a recipe, tick something off my bucket list. I want to talk about fashion as if I understand it and my passion for interior design. I want to write lists because I bloody love lists. I want to write about uni. I want to make videos - I miss documenting my days in a vlog and editing them to look back on. I want to talk about films I love, the shows I'm obsessed with, the things I'm listening to. I want to share my writing but my stories seem childish and lack originality. My poetry is not something people are interested in. I am constantly starting things and leaving them in the drafts folder. 

I don't know what I want this blog to be anymore. I don't know how to find time and motivation to keep going. I used to love my blog with a passion and not worry about what I was writing. I'm not ashamed of it, so much has been documented on here that I'm thankful I started it. Call it an identity crisis but I don't know what to write anymore. Or if anyone is even reading.
Maybe I'll figure it out. Maybe I've realised by actually finishing this post at midnight that this blog is my space to be truly me and to write whatever I want. I like that I've accomplished just this. Maybe I'll fall back in love with it.