I come to this page and I stop. I look at the cursor blinking, waiting to be moved from one space to another. I see the empty page, the blank post title line and I want to write something, I really do. I want to pull words from my heart, soul and mind, move them through my arms to my fingertips and the words appear on the screen in some semblance of order. I really do.
Yet, I come to this page and I stop. I watch the blinking cursor and the words won't come. The thoughts are there, the frustrations and the joys, the things that nag at my brain, pull my heart, create anxiety or joy within my soul. The thoughts, though, don't seem to make it from my brain, heart or soul down my arms to my fingertips to this page. They stop, they stagnate and I find myself staring at a blank page wondering what my point was, why was I writing, what was I writing, does anyone really care about any of this, am I just whining (because that's a totally different blog), do I want to see this through to the end of the thought? Within seconds the decision is made, the close button is hit, the box that pops up that says "do you want to save this" is ignored and I sign back out.
Writers block? Maybe. The more likely story is the unsettling in my soul, the part of me recognizing I am on this path by choice, yet also aware there should be more, there needs to be more, I was made for more than what is now. This is what I wanted and yet...and yet...and yet I want more. I want to be more, do more...and I don't want to whine about being here now.
So I come to this page and I stop. The cursor blinks, waiting to be moved from one space to another. I wait for the words to flow and give up and hit close.
No comments:
Post a Comment