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13 May 2024 - 17:45

I find myself drawn to this thing whenever I can't seem to write anywhere else. I feel the need to write, yet I can't. My stories don't flow. I even tried typing out a reply to a writing buddy of mine that is way overdue, but I couldn't even get through reading her original message from this past March. *sigh*

Right now, I'm with my mom at our local public library. I told her we'd be here for at least two hours, and she's gone perusing for books. I sit here, trying to come up with something.

And see, that's not accurate either. My mind comes up with a shit-ton of ideas all the time. Sometimes, my favorite ones will tend to loop on repeat for days, weeks, even months at a time. Stories live in my brain and they always will. I can hear dialogue as clearly as though it were being spoken aloud. I can feel a character's emotions as though they were happening to me. So, yeah, the stories are there. The ideas are concrete. I just... can't
translate them... onto the page. Is this a type of writer's block? Or am I simply exhausted? The thing is, I am severely annoyed with myself, because I yearn to read these stories floating around in my psyche. I want to caress the words on the page with my sight, tenderly follow the curve and cadence of the syntax... but there's nothing there! Nothing but a blank white screen, glaring back at me expectantly. Demanding.

Ah, fuck.

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