One of the difficulties of writing

One of the difficulties of writing is the painful contrast it provides between the experience of writing and the fact of external reality.

While one might find writing to be soothing and inwardly rewarding, that moment of solitude and meaning might also make more painful the time spent away from one's own thoughts and dreams, where one must navigate the realities of suffering, meaninglessness, conflict, and routine.

Sometimes, it seems easier to succumb passively to the realities of the world as is, overpowering as it appears, rather than carve out a time and space to relish the peace that comes with simple being in writing.

Is it possible to integrate the two experiences of solitude and wholeness with the clamoring experience of division and unfamiliarity?

It's so easy to give into past failures of carving out that safe space, whether through writing, running, or working on an intimate relationship, and let the missed opportunities dictate one's orientation toward the present and future.

But does past failures really mean that you should give up altogether? Or do they instead provide a deterrent against passivity and incentive to actively craft of one's external realities a better reflection of what one knows to be possible from personal experience, or maybe just conviction?

There may or may not be an answer to this question, but there is definitely an answer in each person's response. Maybe the ultimate answer will be in the accumulation of each individual one.