Writers block
I can't write anymore. Of all the things that hurt me, this is the thing that causes the deepest, most desperate pain. I cannot write anymore, because I haven't done it in a while and I'm sorry. There is so much in me that wants to be put into words more than anything, but the words fail me; there is a barrier between my fingers and my brain.
Who am I if I can't write? What is real about me, if it isn't the thoughts I put into words? Who do I want to be, if not the words I have written, the ones I am writing, and the ones yet to come? No one. Or atleast not someone I care to be.
Oh, sweet words, how I love you! It makes me emotional just sitting here, forcing myself to do something that so recently was the most natural thing in the world to do. I swore to never go back to this, to never again touture my colourful mind like this, to suffocate the brightness of my thoughts and let them fill me up with a darkness that I couldn't let out. With all that is going on inside of me, I needed to release it. When I did so, not only did my mind get clearer, but I also created something, for me and for others, that made me think I was not at all as useless as I once thought. It was my purpose, and it still is, so it isn't strange really, how frustrated I am.
Just by letting this small piece of my mind out onto this screen, I am filled with an energy I haven't felt in so long, but that I have missed oh so much. Please, let me continue to write for the rest of my life. And to whoever is reading: this is for you. And to the people whom I know belive in me more than anyone has ever done: you are always on my mind. However far away you may be, you're always in my heart. I will always write for you, until the very end.