I write lesser and lesser these days. I open my notebook, type a single word or sentence and then I’m overwhelmed with the expectation of something that's good. Something that changes people. Something that people read and go 'I know exactly how you feel'. Or I read it and think 'Hey, I'm a decent writer'.
Nothing of that sort happens anymore. I'm scared of expressing how I really feel. Because it won't matter. The person won't know it's about them, or they just won't read it. I'm stuck.
My lips are clamped down shut, but every once in a while I feel a crazy urge to open my mouth and laugh like I mean it. Crack a sad joke and then laugh at my lack of sense of humour. I've been shut out for a while now, that when I do say something, I want pearls and diamonds to spill out. Nothing else is good enough.
I have that thing; a second book jinx, or something like that. Instead, it's with poems. After writing a masterpiece, they are unable to come with something that matches the greatness of the first one. Except I haven't even come up with a first stroke of brilliance yet.
Writing is pointless. It's to the point where I stare blankly into the screen or paper for hours. I can’t even write anymore without hating myself and wondering where I lost the old me.
Things can never go back to the way they were. That doesn’t happen. And I don’t want it to either.
Maybe I'll come out through this shining and then months later, I can write again.
I’m not very strong.
I read stuff. Blogs, short-stories, and for short-lasting moments, I feel inspired. 'Oh, let me write this down', I think. I have drafts here, full of incomplete work. Drafts with just one sentence. It was like my brain was so ready for a marathon.. and halfway it had a heart attack within hundred meters.
I could make so much more of myself with such brilliant poems, but it won’t matter.
I’ve lost. I’ve failed.
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I'll be back on this once I write again.
Til then.. PeaceLoveVitaminWater<3