Every time I sit down to write, I find I am not the same writer I was before.
The process of growing is a frustrating one mainly because people do not change until the situation forces them to.
It is usually only when we are forced to face new struggles and challenge new frustrations that we realize: the person we are now is not enough anymore. The person we were yesterday is not strong enough anymore. She is not smart enough, not wise enough or brave enough to face what life brings today, and so, she must become the person she needs to be tomorrow.
I do not become a better writer by continuing to be the writer I was yesterday. I cannot always speak the same words or write the same scenes. I must always be changing. I must always be searching for something new.
Yesterday is no longer enough to fill today, but the thrill of tomorrow might be. The thrill of knowing that there are always new words to learn, new things to experience, and new hurts to feel. The thrill of knowing that the future is always one day away and that each day offers a new chance to be better, stronger, wiser, braver.
And though the person I was yesterday was not strong enough to face this, I know better now.
And tomorrow will come despite whether or not I am ready.
With every new season, new lessons arise, and this summer I learned to not rely on the rain to give the words.
I love to write when it rains. But, in the draughts and the sunny days, in days spent locked up at jobs and at school as the rain thrums on the rooftops, on late rainy night when the words come like with each drop from the sky, how often did I stop to just listen to the rain? How often did I stop to enjoy them?
So, yesterday, when rain fell and streets flooded, it was time to leave the laptop behind. It was time to stop speaking, and go out and listen to the sound of the rain.
