I thought I was “entitled” to a break.
What it was in reality, was me giving up cowardly.
In these 2 years’ break, I had a baby, lost my weight, took on courses for acting, visited different cities.
It wasn’t fruitless, but the void is bigger than empty.
These 2 years, I struggled to understand life, death, faith, hope, love.
These 2 years, I battled with depression, sadness, anger.
These 2 years, I embraced a new life into mine, physically and metaphorically.
These 2 years have been blessed with joy and shadowed with self-doubt and uncertainty.
30 is the age of oblivion. It is true. I wondered, cried, saddened by the dissatisfaction of my own ordinaries.
I wasn’t sure why I was so lost and unhappy with myself. Then I slowly understood, the thought of me – the very center and most special person in my own universe – is simply another ordinary human( might also as mediocre as others can be) scared me quite a bit.
These 2 years, I stopped and looked upon what I have started and yet not finished. So many stories. So many songs. So many projects. They all aborted due to my worries.
I worry too much about the future instead of consistently working on the things I love and passionate about regardless what others think.
A finished product is already something to be proud of.
Simple as that. But I didn’t take it to my heart.
2 years break is over.
I’m recharged and determined. I don’t care about the likes(not until I finish something). I don’t care about what I might think about my own work(because on a good day it’s all gold and on a bad day it’s all shit… so meself is not that trustworthy). I don’t care about how fast others succeed.
I am me. I am myself.
I do me best.
I take my own time. Do my own thing.
I will get where I want to be.
P.S. consistency is the key. Seriously.