THE SLEEPY CROW
that one time I wrote a lot
2025.07.10
...

For a weird stretch of time a few years ago, I fell into the habit of writing everyday. It wasn't a ritual with a set time or place, it wasn't planned at all, it was just something I did. I'd pull out my phone wherever I was: in bed, on a bench at lunch, on the bus, didn't matter, and just start writing whatever was in my head.

I had a lot to say back then. I wrote about about people -- how humans interact with tools, how the internet influences our way of thinking, and my personal life -- my childhood, my relationships with other people, my plans for the future. I wrote about anything and everything that crossed my mind. Everything I saw felt worth picking apart. Writing felt like the natural thing to do. More than that, it felt like what I had to do.

And then one day I didn't write anything. I don't remember why. There was no dramatic moment. I didn't even realise at the time. And that one day turned into two, into three, into months. The momentum I had was gone.

I keep thinking about that time, those few months where writing was instinctive, involuntary. I keep chasing that feeling. The energy and rhythm of something that happened for seemingly no reason and probably won't happen again.