I’ve scratched my head a bit too much in the last hour. I’ve been rocking a simple hairstyle for the past few weeks – two braids, one on the left, the other on the right and as I sit here, I fight the insistent urge to pull them both. After all, I don’t enjoy pain. No one does.
This week has felt particularly strange as I struggled to put words together and make them sound authentic in some way.
My well of beautifully constructed words has seemed to have run dry leaving me with simply nothing to say. It’s not that I have no ideas written down in the pink notebook by my bedside, ideas that I loved and adored when I penned them with the blackest ink, but right now it seems like they all say nothing to me; not a single thing speaks volumes.
I read books and blogs I always return to hunting for something that sparks a fire. The magazine laying semi-opened on the floor I threw violently when I gave up on the thought it might ignite something somewhere.
Backspacing over and over and over; it’s the routine I’ve found to be the only constant, the only sure thing. A part of me is surprised I haven’t erased any of this yet.
During the week, all the words I wrote I locked away in a folder to never see the light. I stare at it as it lives on the right side of my desktop then I let my mind roam freely in an attempt to put the pieces back together.
There are times when words flow like a broken tap; no matter how much I try to close it, it just overflows, but on days like this, I’m like a summer day in a minute of drought, praying fervently for that one drop – that one glimmer of hope.
It shouldn’t be this hard to write a post – I told myself that too a few seconds ago – I mean I’ve done it too many times, but sometimes it is and I guess that’s part of the process. It’s like a war between your ‘genius’ and the burning desire to mold something precious that you will smile on in years to come.
On second thought, while that might not be today, I’m sure inspiration will strike again in all it’s force and glory and I’ll be right there ready to catch all of it. Isn’t it funny? Up until now, I never thought I’d ever long for a broken tap…
Your restless romantic roamer
What do you do when you feel unispired in your field?
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