I have been floating around here consuming whatever I could. The fresh poets on the chain and some deep reads waiting to be found by an exploring eye. Some relatable to a point of draining anything substantial to add.
I love how here you can be schooled on a few things and my soul has been ingesting anything tasting like a life lesson.
The lurking around has been majorly fueled by this said writer's block that won't give my pens any time of the day. I have attempted to construct a worthy post in three days now and I could feel my writer stammering and struggling to bind the proper words into flowing sentences and thereafter engaging or relatable paragraphs.
When I am in this state, my mind usually finds itself choking on the supply of my unpenned thoughts. Like a busy market, the air is clogged up by prospective freewrite pieces and raw poetry.
One minute, I am willing to do it all and show the world read the chain what my writer is made of. The other second I am busy mentally editing the ones the readers won't like even before I pen them because my toxic assumptions oftentimes ask 'who cares anyway?'
Creating should be pegged as complicated at times. From fighting oneself while questioning one's skills to parading one's creation to a rather usually harsh world for scrutiny ain't anything light one bit.
Sharing for some of us is hella hard this makes creating even harder especially if you are a creative writer who seeks to share their experiences weaved into whichever form.
What do you do with yourself when you can't fluently share? When the voices in your head won't allow one voice to speak at a time? When the weight of your words feel lighter than that of a single feather? What happens when the dark blankets your spilling ink?
I am a writer yes but sometimes it is the thought of what people would think after reading a certain piece I authored that keeps me away from it all. Sometimes it's the inadequacy that comes with calling myself one that has me wondering why anyone would be interested in reading what I pen or relate to it.
So is it a writer's block really? Definitely but also the constant pressure to deliver better at all times has me perspirating unnecessarily but still oddly necessary. Don't you agree?
