I'm Looking For It

I was coming home from work and was pondering over the words of Asa in her songs Bibanke, the way I feel, and subway. I started having flashes of images that describes the scenery of those songs. Everything I saw and heard we're being used to accentuate the song. I began longing for home. I accelerated my pace. I couldn't wait to pour out my thoughts, I wanted to paint what I was seeing. 

My hands began to quirk as I slot in my key into the key hole, I knew I had to calm down. I left the key and took a deep breath, I felt my heart thumping, as if it was going to come out of my mouth. Finally, i opened the door as it squeaks. I turned on my TV, and opted that it reads from my drive, I dashed through the musics and selected to listen to Asa. I was intellectually famished, and Asa was my cuisine that could satisfy my hunger.

As the words began to splat out of the TV's speaker, the flashes began to emanate. I quickly rushed for my iPad, and sat in my couch, ad midst the soothing rhythm and was hoping for the words to flow. Once I get these flashes, I subsequently begin to have an ideation of words and thoughts, but this was not the case. I was getting the flashes but I couldn't coagulate the words together. 

I began to gawk at the cursor blinking with the hope that one sentence from any of Asa's song could resuscitate me. Before I knew it, I had spent almost half of the evening playing songs with no ideation. Where has my inspiration gone to? I asked myself. 

For the next few days I tried to wonder how I had always coordinated that transition from images to words. As much as I tried to work my way around it, i still couldn't write anything. Sincerely, I think I have lost my inspiration and I'm looking for it. I'm suspecting someone but don't want to say it to her face. I hope she realizes the harm she's done to me. 

She used to drive me inadvertently, she was a complete inspiration. Each time I wanted to write, all I needed to do is to convert the images into motion, in which I'm telling her the story, after which translating it into words becomes like writing a story I've heard before, the words so flow uninterruptedly. These days it isn't so. 

She's such a hard worker who loves what she does. Her passion easily exudes and affect those around her, she is the best person I have ever known. But now I can no longer picture her in my mind, and it has been the hardest time for me to write. I'm seriously searching for my inspiration. 

I'm also trying to avoid the dissuasion that, it might be within me, as Asa will say it in her song 360. Something could be within you, but a little drive could trigger it, and ho la la, here it springs up, like water from a dead spring. It's within me, but it needs to be triggered. Thank God we live in a world of varieties of preconceptions and persuasions, so everyone can see this from a totally different dimension. Here is it for me now.

I won't give up on it, even if the skies get rough, I'm giving it my all and still holding on. I don't want to be someone who walks away so easily, I'm here to find my drive and make the difference that I can make. In the end I know, even if I don't find it, I'll learn how to bend without the world caving in, and to learn what I'm not, what I've got and who I am.