There are feelings, deep feelings boiling up inside of my mind, trying desperately to flow freely from my fingers. My mind is awash with ideas, I want more than anything to let them free, to get them on a paper, to show the world what I can do. But I can’t, and I haven’t been able to for what seems like ages now, and I’m so scared that my words are gone, that I’ll never write well again.
It used to be easy to unclog my mind. I would just type, shove out some first person historical drivel, and boom, the words would flow again. I would write something just go, and it would be. All the words made sense, they fell together like pictures.
But the words are drowning, I’m drowning, and I can’t seem to swim. My mind is too filled with the plans, the feelings, the stories, and I can’t let them out. So I sit drowning, I sit trying, terrified.
I am terrified. I need my skills.
I’ve defined myself by this for so long, I’ve been “A Writer” for so long, and to lose it, I don’t know what I would do. I need my words, I need them to work. I need to go back to telling stories of mystical beings, to singing my songs, to finding myself. I’m terrified, and I don’t know how to stop it.
With every success, my expectations grew. I had to live up to my own standards, not only live up, but surpass, everything must be better than what they had been before, my sentences have to be art, have to be perfect. It doesn’t work, I can’t get past the beginning. Can’t form an opening sentence that’s good enough for my own approval.
But I have to do this, I have to do this because I can’t lose this, because I can’t let my plans drown, I can’t let my stupidly overactive mind go quiet. The ideas are there, I need my words.
This is a prayer, a prayer to someone, somewhere that somehow, I can have my words back, that they can once again flow in a manner that I can be proud of, that I can once again love my words. Because I’m terrified, I can’t lose the words. Dear God above, hear my prayer.
Let me love my words again.