I used to be inspired by everything. And I mean really every thing. I used to be inspired by people, how they would look while going home, how they would look when they were in a rush to get the train on time, how they would smile while meeting someone they knew. I used to be inspired by the way someone would speak, to someone else, on the phone, to themselves... I used to be captivaded by the way someone would walk past me and slightly touching my arm or my hand. If I was lucky they would smile a little, even if just to apologise for getting in the way. I used to fall in love all the time. By strangers, people I've never met and never will. People that would leave a nice trail of perfume, that would not even notice me, but I noticed them. I used to notice everything. Everything around me had my attention.
I used to be inspired by the streets, in the morning while going to school, or at night while going back home. I used to be inspired by the street lights, the golden look they give the night. I used to love the sound of the children playing in the kindergarten, how excited they were to be together. I used to be inspired by the rain, by the smell that it leaves after falling for a whole day. I used to love. To love everything and everyone a bit too much. And suddendly it was like I realised nothing would ever love me back. And I shut myself to any kind of inspiration, any kind of light, any kind of love. And now I go in the train with my head down, reading and waiting. And then I walk to university listening to music that no one else can hear. I walk by myself, because it's safer to not be bursting with emotions all the time. And now I have no inspiration, and that makes me so ordinary that sometimes I don't even want to wake up. At least when I'm sleeping, I have another reality that I can no longer live in when I'm awake.
I feel empty. Blank.
