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via Daily Prompt: Adrift

The disconnect is real.

I can’t tell you how many times I came here to write and didn’t. It’s almost as if my brain has forgotten how to function as a writer. How to make plain the jumbled processing of words to describe a situation, or rather how it makes me feel. Either that or I just don’t care to.

Writer’s block, you say? This is not writer’s block.

My last post was three months ago. Three months since I’ve written here. Three months my heart has had nothing to say. But it has, because I’ve been here, opened the blog, sat down with the intention to write only to feel nothing. Only questions and doubts…

Do I really want to talk about this?

I don’t have much to say on this topic.

I don’t feel like doing this anymore.

Why are you staring at a screen? You have work to do.

adrift_by_fictionchick-d5b90p9

Adrift by fictionchick on deviant art 

My mind is lost in an abyss of tiredness and responsibility, never reaching any goals no matter how much I fight and struggle to move from the place I’m in. And my life line is getting farther and farther away. Maybe that’s why I feel so disconnected with myself and have been living like my mind is an empty shell.

But this is not writer’s block. I forgot that if I don’t write, I’ll die. Internally I will whither away and cease to exist.

I’m adrift in the open sea but writing is the dark secrets beneath the water that keeps me wondering, and imagining with fascination what might be there. It’s the buoy that keeps my head above the water’s of life that threaten to drown me. It’s the lighthouse that keeps reminding me, reassuring me that the land is near… it’ll be fine, the light says, just hold on.

This is not writer’s block. This is my soul’s desperate calls for help. To be revived on the brink of death. This is me forgetting who I am and why I’m here. Writing is how I survive in a world that threatens to kill my soul and steal my sanity.

So even though I have a million things to do today, or any day, I will stop to write something. A song, a poem, a plan for a story, how I feel about the world around me, how I feel about myself. It doesn’t matter. Writing is a part of me and I should not neglect it.

– Written by Travesaou

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