I’ve reached a standstill with my writing. I’ve written nothing creative for about two weeks. I may be overreacting, I’m not sure yet, but I’m frightened nonetheless.
Time was I would’ve been afraid of the block, now however, I’m afraid of writing. I’m honestly afraid of my own words as they form sentences and cohesion to a story. I’m hoping it is just a mood, but I’m not entirely certain what the cause might be in truth.
I sit to write, and I can barely even think, my hands get sweaty, my mind races, and I have no idea where to even start. There are three or four major pieces I’ve been contemplating writing for a while, and I’ve no idea what to write on any of them, in the past this meant I could write some poetry to occupy myself in the interim, not so currently.
I’ve nothing to occupy myself as far as writing goes, and it frightens me. I can’t quite discern if the fear comes from my lack of interest in my subjects, or that I can’t seem to nail anything down into words. I’m even at a loss for words now; everything I put together feels so dry and lackluster.
I need a great big ladle of gravy full of bits of words and thoughts that soothe and juice up my dried-out mind. Of course that might lead to someone wanting to eat out my skull because I smell like tasty gravy, but it is a chance I’m willing to take.