Dear Headspace.

Dear headspace,

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed having a reason to light a candle, sit myself down and open up a new word document … and simply write.

You’re an old friend where written down transcripts of our chats somehow end up in a piece of writing. You’re a blast of fresh air, the sounds of laughter, and the smell of baked goods and freshly brewed coffee in the air.

I’ve missed the nuances of the words you choose to give me. The difference between when there is no filter and when there is a filter is in place.

You know, there’s an art to epistolary that I haven’t quite discovered; an art that earlier generations seem to have perfected. The art of writing that makes you feel like you were right there sitting with them at their writing desks.

How do I find that art again? Is it through practice? Must I write when you are not visiting, and it feels like I’m living in an empty house too big for one person?

I know, I know. Practice makes perfect. But I’m scared that my writing is just too dull. Not interesting enough to be captivating. I guess there is my communications side reminding me constantly that the “topic is not meaningful enough” to translate into likes, comments, and page views. (ugh, seriously, just let me be!)

Also, I guess I’m struggling to differentiate writing for fun and writing for work. When you’re here and we are having a conversation over a cup of coffee, that distinction is a little bit clearer.

I’ve missed you headspace. You’ve been a bit of a slippery eel, always disappearing when I thought I caught you long enough to stay. But that makes your visits just that little bit sweeter.




PS: Stay long enough next time to teach me a lesson on the art of letter writing?

One thought on “Dear Headspace.

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