It’s never easy trying to recapture what one believes one had as a young teenager. The gift of writing, be it poems or short stories.
I often wonder if I could ever rekindle any creative instinct in writing I had ever had. There have been lots of failed attempts, often starting with a few words at the beginning and then to suddenly come to a halt. It is frustrating to say the least. The question that comes to mind is that perhaps I never had the gift at all and only imagined I did, even though I had written each night, religiously, a poem, or a short story. Sadly, all that I had written as a teenager ended up in flames brought on by sheer fear of having each piece read by my then husband. Nothing regrets me more than my impulse to burn each piece of writing I had ever written. All gone for ever. If only I had this medium to write into as I’m attempting to do now, and all those pieces of writings I had, would still be with me now, and no one would’ve been any the wiser. Daimn!
So this entry is a dedication to regrets. Regrets that can never be undone. I’m sure that we all have regrets that can never be undone. What yours are?