Sometimes writing can be a struggle. At least that’s what I tell myself when I can’t think of anything, but that is completely false. I mean look at how easily I’m writing right now. It might seem to me like I’ve got nothing to write about, or that my mind is completely empty, but in reality, it’s all just psychological. Once I put my pen down on paper and just start writing, there’s no stopping me. It’s the best feeling honestly, just writing out my thoughts and the first things that come to mind, nonstop. Continue reading
Sometimes I just stare at a blank screen or sheet of paper, wanting nothing more than to write, but the words fail to find their way out of my head. They just linger there, unable to put themselves together to form even the simplest of sentences. Times like these are often very frustrating, and sometimes it gets me mad. My mind feels as blank as the paper I am looking at, yet in reality, it’s the exact opposite of that. There’s nothing I can do really, except to start writing something, anything, in hopes that I no longer have to stare at a sheet that’s so painfully empty. Part of what I write might not make sense, but I believe that the rest of it does. Sometimes I write poems, other times I write what I feel. Most times I just ramble, but what I write is real. I’ll go on and on about stuff that is pointless, things that no one even cares about, but I know that out of billions, there is at least one other person who knows this feeling all too well. I write my last sentence and look once again, this time satisfied as I see the sheet that was once so irritatingly clean, now covered in words.
Just a little something to clear my head.