Recreation In Progress

   I haven't written for awhile, and a lot has happened since I last posted something remotely meaningful. I had an entire summer of writing stories and then things got busy and I stopped writing. I stopped making movies. I didn't really read as much as I used to.
  Then stuff happened, and I was suddenly left completely empty inside, a mere shadow of who I used to be. A very tired and lost shadow. It was as though my entire being had been sucked out of me and the only thing left behind was a shell.
   So I began the quest of finding myself. It started out with jumbled, angry poetry that didn't even sound poetical. The poems were short, raw and bitter. Anger radiated from them. Words didn't even fit together properly, but the words had been locked away for so long that they all spilled out, quite jumbled.
   Days, weeks, two months later and I was still writing poetry, only poetry. But the words were beginning to flow again. Little rays of hope were beginning to sneak in among the bitter and angry creations. It became a game, "put in hope where you can". I still wasn't able to write short stories and planning a movie plot was out of the question.
  After a time, I began writing long, not planned out stories in my notebook. None of them got finished, but at least I was writing four or five pages worth of story. It was progress.
   Then my drama class and I filmed a movie, with which I had ideas for and helped plan. Though it was only a music video and there wasn't much plot, it was still something, and it meant a lot to me.
    So where am I now? Still writing lots of poetry, about to start some short stories (hopefully) and already working on a movie or two. Though I still don't feel like myself every day, I think pieces of myself have returned. But at the same time, I don't even want to be the same as before. I'm different now. Still myself, the old self, but also something new. Something hopeful. I am a Recreation, still in progress.