writers block

its been too long and i feel like both my craft and me has suffered because of it! this piece provides commentary of some of the thoughts i have regarding this

𓌜𓌜𓌜

It feels like I can't write anymore.

Like the neural pathways to the creative section of my mind have been singed and fried. I imagine myself desperately clawing at that part of me, to unearth whatever is left of it, wanting to prove it was there to begin with. Was I ever a good writer? A creative? Or someone who simply enjoyed that title.

I'll rip my hair out from its roots, cut through layers of my skin before cracking the smooth bone of my skull. I wish to scoop out the soft pink jelly of my brain, and reach the hippocampus. I imagine finding it in ruins. Not because of my recent acts of mutilation but rather my inability to create. Rather than finding memories of neatly packaged paragraphs and examples of talent, it will be as if these things are barred. Memories that I am no longer permitted to access. In their place are my failures and shortcomings, all the things that dissuade me from creating. Why do it now if you barely could when it mattered the most.

Currently, I'm staring at my keyboard and trying to summon thoughts and events, to repaint the pictures in my mind and transfer those ideas to whoever reads. The paint has dried and the brush is frayed, my tools feel foreign in my hands and I can no longer execute what I once prided myself in.

So I dissect the things that are now running through my mind, and attempt to embellish them for your consumption.

I hope this is good enough.

𓌜𓌜𓌜 

I have a couple more pieces stored in the bank but again im not too sure on them? feeling more confident these days so hopefully I can produce something longer soon!