I’ve always wanted to be a storyteller. When I was younger I loved to write short stories with the most outrageous characters. Humour was my forte. But these days I don’t even have an imagination. Where did it all go? Did I lose it all or is my brain just blocking it from flowing? 

I have no idea what to do to get inspired. But I still dream of being a storyteller.



I can’t say that I’ve lived a similar life to Howard W. Campbell Jr.

But I sure can relate to how he views certain aspects of life.

“It’s all I’ve seen, all I’ve been through,” I said, “that makes it damn nearly impossible for me to say anything. I’ve lost the knack of making sense. I speak gibberish to the civilized world, and it replies in kind.”
(Howard W. Campbell Jr. from Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut)


I want to be inspired.

I’m not sure if it’s who I am, where I am, or if I’m just simply out of ideas; I can’t seem to write anything worth reading. Ever since I was little I was always good at putting words on paper and enticing the people who read them. Lately I haven’t even been able to speak English properly. All of my words are jumbled up, or what I say just doesn’t make any sense.

I want to go somewhere and live there for a few months and try to get inspired. It doesn’t even have to be somewhere new or far, just somewhere that could open my brain to new ideas. I guess you could say that I need to start on a blank page of my life.

xo DP