I wrote for two days, then I couldn't write yesterday. It's so difficult. I have been dragging myself since the morning to write again, but... no progress.
I want to write so much. I want to write about everything. Everything I see, I hear, I listen, I speak, I feel. Everyone I meet. I want to log everything. The voices, the thoughts, the feelings, the emotions. Those experiences. My entire life and every life that is connected to me. I want to draw the whole web with my words and bottles of ink.
But, I can't... I am unable to. I lodge it in my head, but then when I think of jotting it down, I am unable to pick up the pen. My spine doesn't straighten up. I can't find pages suddenly. Every minute logged into my head disappears. They run into these little rooms in my head, those corner rooms at the end of the corridor. They go into those rooms, shut the doors, and hide in the old attic. becoming an omnium gatherum of sporadic bits and pieces locked in the truck, which is covered with spiderwebbed rust.
- Oizys.