My writing stomach is eating its own cells

Imagine someone who has not eaten at all. Maybe, he or she has eaten but only scrapes or left over of foods taken from anywhere he or she can get them. 

The person begins to experience pain probably because of the stomach doing somersaults or whatever. 

This is just analogous to my writing. I remember that reading and taking in information is one way of feeding my prompts. But then, you know what? I have not read a book in a long time now. 

I attempted reading but what a shame I couldn’t understand. Maybe, I will go for a fasting and get food somewhere else. From observations, reflections, experiencing things through immersion, etc. 

Funny how as I grow older, I am beginning to lose patience on hifalutin books. Just maybe, I am going towards simplicity. That which I can just live by until the end of my days. 

I can just go on living teaching my young ones how to live. I can just capitalize by guiding them in order to be able to survive and have something to sustain their living. 

I am beginning to wonder how I can go on writing if I refuse to read books and accept more ideas into my system. 

How odd that I have been a reader of things whether I understood them wholly or not, I still read them and just get aid from the internet to comprehend them better. 

I wish I can have universal truths that I can just reflect on. Too bad I don’t have resources for such. As time goes by, I begin realizing how stupid and dull I am. I am beginning to see how incomprehensible everything could be.  

As for my writing, I am getting ideas from here and there, never really having the confidence for imparting anything to anyone who is reading my works. 

I question whether it is right to write here in the first place. At the beginning, I was quite confident that if this is how I write, then so be it. But I am beginning to evaluate if my writings are valuable enough to be published here. 

Is it worth the coins I am receiving. I mean, have I worked for my coins and that I was not just writing for the sake of it? 

How then can I make my time more worthwhile and my coins earned with credibility? 

My mind is failing me. I am beginning to get confused. I am losing my passion and whatever in writing yet I wanted to keep the habit alive. 

What then should I do to get me working passionately again? 

Should I just rest and find hustle elsewhere? A part-time where I can reflect while doing works? 

Silly, this is still the most viable place! How can I take that for granted? 

As for my ulcered writing stomach, I can start again. Where should I start? I may just as well just continue writing. Will someone come after me? 

This is the writing world. I may just put on a disclaimer then. Because how can I write freely if I always take into consideration what others are thinking? Otherwise, I may just as well tell them to write for me. But that is not my style.  

I will erase these silly thoughts and once again put on my confident coat. I can write poetry, metered or not... How do I understand poetry? It is something I write such that I pose puzzle-like statements that it is a game for those who are reading to decipher the meaning. 

And I write all others in order figure out what I can do about things in life. In the end, I write because it is a part of my soul. Until the day I perish...