Thoughts at 4 in the morning

I used to write ALL the time. Words just flowed. That was my outlet. There was a community of writers who felt like family. Not so many years later, here I am. I have to find a new way to write. It seems my words came from my deep inner turmoil. That turmoil that was my life and therefore gave me no life. And then I got medicated. Yep - now where did that creativity go? I've been trying to find those pieces. They're in there somewhere. I won't write about deep dark destructive unrest. At least not all the time. And I refuse to write about flowers and trees and annoying little blue birds. Nope not me. I think I'll just start typing and let the words find me once more. Most likely at 4 in the morning on Ambien dreams.