My Zest for Writing

I Have Lost My Zest for Writing

I feel I'm losing my zest and passion for writing. Not because of the coming of AI, but because of the tragedies and agonies of humans. Sometimes, it is too much to endure—wars, natural disasters, and many more. The fragility of life, the cruelty of fate, and the indifference of time.

I dare not wish to express my feelings and emotions. They are not even enough to capture reality and the deep and complex myriads of the world—the human existence.

I feel my words and lines are losing their meaning. I am sure there are countless such texts and expressions. Will my language make any difference?

How bad could it be? My language is begging for my mercy and my kindness in making it alive and existential. It cries for a chance to exist in the universe, a chance to get to know the world. How can it be…? It seems the more I write, the less I care. Should I stop writing? I want to live my life, and writing makes it feel like I am wasting my time.

Really? I have lost the zest for writing. I do need to think more about new things to entertain myself. Really?

This writing, you can tell, is a testament for the fact that my passion for writing has been waned and diminishing. I wish I could make it uplifting and full of passion.