Writers block

Blockage

My writing days are over:

Writing has been one of my best ways to release my feelings and to open my mind. Lately I can no longer find to words to express how I feel..
I've been writing since I was 5, writing poems to my mother to make her day better. I use to write letters to my friends in grade school to make their days better. I even wrote letters to the ones I cared the most about when I was too far to be with them.
I use to love writing about anything and everything. Sometimes I wish I could still do that. Now I can't even write out how my day is or how I'm feeling. It's not that I don't know how I'm feeling I just can't find the words that once inspired me to write 75 pages of a one direction fantasy story I wrote in middle school. Or the 13 part Story I wrote on wattpad 6 years ago. Or the words that helped me write a 3rd page  entry about moving forward from losing my innocence at the age of 15.
I can't find the words to explain my bad nights or my good nights. I'd get the pen and paper ready and write two words and come to a stop at a wall blocking my way to continue. I've been locked in the room full of great ideas to write about anything but get no where on paper.
As if when I deleted my entries; you locked me in a room and took the key with you. Leaving me nothing but a pen and paper. A pen with no ink and paper with no lines.
I'm stuck in this white room looking back to my good days to find something to write about. I sit here still thinking about my bad days to see if there is anything to help me to get out now.

I wondered at times if not being on social media would help a bit. Or staying close with the ones who want good for me may trigger something inspirational. But nothing has come up. Getting back into swimming could be my way out but all I can think about with swimming is my darkest days in the water. Ones I've already written about somewhere..
I can never finish any of my entries I've had in my notes for months, it's like when I start my fingers pause in middle of sentences or my phone would have some glitch and would stop working.
The days of me writing anything is coming to an end. My imagination is fading away with my reality. My inspiration has disappeared the day you put me in this room with no way out. My pen is fading and my paper is blending in with the walls. This is one small bump I simply can't get over.