Writers block.

I haven’t written anything substantial in a year, possibly more.  Thinking of writing anything scares me, because what if I’ve lost it?  What if I can’t make myself proud with my words like I used to.

So I snap pictures.  I sometimes (rarely) draw.  I do whatever I can think of to feel creative in some way, but there’s always this hole inside me.  This hole where I used to sit for hours at a time punching out words and stories, sometimes deleting every single letter I put down, but writing.

It’s lonely to be without my words now, but you can’t truly appreciate something until its left you for a while.

What’s it like being me?  It’s confusing and scary and full of stress and worry and doubt.  But, the moments when I feel that my words are coming back, that I might just write again after all… it’s beautiful.

~Z~

…what’s it like being you?