Yesterday, I stayed home from work to think and to write. I'm not entirely sure what I'm writing - could be the beginning of a short story or it could just be words that needed to be written. All I know is, it was important for me to put those words on paper before they got lost in the brain-numbing void created by my hectic, subway commute and my needlessly stressful worklife.
This voice which is important not only for my writing, but for understanding what's important to me, untainted by any outside influence.
Again, my solitude.
If I don't do this, I do myself an injustice by possibly never knowing let alone fulfilling my purpose. Self-actualization. It's in me to do, I just have to make sure I take the time to do it.
"When we're alive we don't have the time, or the peace of mind, or the inclination to see and understand what we could. We're too busy rushing to our graves." - Cristina Garcia Dreaming in Cuban