I wish I could still write.

I just went through a blog that I started at the end of junior year high school after taking a creative writing class. I hated that class while I was in it, thought the stories we were reading were strange and the people in the class too shallow. How shallow. I never thought in stories, my creativity seemed too stilted and small to be able to come up with an interesting plot and interesting characters. Or they would be all character and no development. No, I much preferred the outlet of writing bad teenage poetry. Mostly nonfiction. How cliche. And reading them, how depressing. But I guess that's to be expected. I find that people are seldom inspired to write poetry when things are going well.

Not all of it is sad, or bad. There were stretches of time when I'd have little bursts of inspiration, and I'd just write, every day. That just doesn't happen anymore. I miss it. The last time I wrote in it was Fall 2007, which, I guess, is expected if you know my life timeline. I wish I had joined Archi earlier, stuck with it, done the writing sessions. Because it's nice, sometimes, to try to make it all make sense in lines.

Maybe I'll repost a couple at some point. Just because I like them. I want to start up again. But lately I've felt like life goes through stages of static and chaos and I don't know what to get out of it. We'll see.