Inspiration is something that can come in a variety of different ways. Sometimes it’s a playlist. Sometimes some other writer’s article. Sometimes it’s even the weather.
But for me, it was you who made me feel inspired again.
My heart may have been frozen solid for the last few years, but you reminded me that there was a reason that even when we think we can’t, we can find a spark again. That spark led me to being ignited from head to toe with a buzzing feeling that I had been missing.
While I’d love to talk about all of the things about you that made me start to feel again, the innate bitterness I feel for you now overshadows the good. Sometimes inspiration doesn’t mean it comes from a place of love. For me, most inspiration comes from a place of profound sadness. When there’s a loss, the words flow effortlessly.
Maybe that makes this a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe I created a scenario that I know was going to end in order to get more material. Maybe in a sick and twisted way, I needed you to break my heart in order for me to create art that I will fall in love with instead.
There are secrets between us that we don’t know how to tell to others but will be forced to. That trust that was built is now gone but I still look for you in every song lyric, praying something will take us back to when things were good.
But nothing will. We have run our course like a leaf that falls to the ground in autumn. We’ve turned into gorgeous colors but no longer have life. We can see the beauty but there’s no way to reattach to each other and learn to breathe as one again.
So when you text me, to tell me you miss me, I’ll tell you the same. I’ll type out the words thank you, as if you’ll understand what they mean, but quickly delete them before sending nothing else.
Because I’m doing well even if this piece of writing tells you otherwise.