I am going through a bit of a rough spot with my writing. I start writing something and stop after one or two paragraphs. I simply lose my inspiration. I write and delete, and write and delete and it all comes to nothing. Paper going into the trash. In the old days, I would write about my “downs” and also my “ups”, I would write just about everything. But I guess I’m a changed person; I’m having difficulty writing about anything. I used to write about useluss stuff, ficcion, reality, happy, sad, it didn’t matter. Now, I’m trying hard to write and nothing ever comes out.
Well, I AM writing this.
But even so it was not what I wanted to write about. I want to write about all the hurricane like feelings that I’m feeling. All that I feel: happy, sad, lonely, peaceful, angry, quiet, noisy, everything. And yet I write about my inability to write about all that I want to write.
I am sad, or maybe, sad is too strong a word. I’m melancholic. Yes, that’s it. Nostalgic about days long gone that will never return. And I’m also hopeful, for new days that are to come. I miss talking until my toungue fell off. I miss having a listener. And I am not sad. I just feel a bit down and nostalgic.
Friends tell me that I need to come out of my shell and go talk to people. And yet, I don’t want to come out of my shell. Meeting new people to me is not just a matter of “stepping out of my comfort zone”, it’s a huge effort on me and my emotions. Deep down I know that nothing bad will happen, but it’s such an energy drain that I just feel exhausted afterwards.
And yet all it takes to soothe me is one simple and soft touch.