Right now I am trying to find out where I stand. I am trying to put something together, to create something, anything no matter how flawed it might be. I am trying to organize my thoughts by writing, like I used to do before, but it's almost imppossible taking in consideration that almost after every word written I hit backspace and I nod my head. I am running out of stories and I am running out of ideas because my mind can't think straight and my people are ,well, either broken or fine. Maybe I have writer's block, but then again I've never thought of myself as a writer. Anybody who can describe their day isn't a writer. Maybe it's the lack of sunlight. It's been clouded lately and my friend kept telling me that lack of sunshine actually induces a depressive state of mind. I don't believe that either. I am opening chat boxes, staring at them for minutes wanting to write something to someone , yet my mind doesn't really help. I feel preassure in my chest, like it's hard to breath, but I also have this breathing problem so I don't know what to think. And then there's this river behind my eyes that awaits. Sadly it's waiting stops at night, when loneliness strikes ,heartbreak strikes, fear strikes, desertion strikes, fear of loss strikes suddenly and all at once.
And I need to insert this bit from an older post here.
My posts aren't posts anymore. They are just a half-empty white space on your screen that just leaves you dissappointed. I am more absent than present, more ignorant than caring. Just kind of sliding between certain moments of the day that seem to have a little bit more importance, wich is total crap because every moment matters. Apparently , I just can't wrap my head around it. [...] I'm craving silence. Sleep I'm getting plenty, but still not enough [...] I miss this, writing for hours on end and not getting sick of it, having the passion to write. I have been losing plenty of that in the last month,passion of all sorts and kinds.
