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I have nothing to say. |
I find that if I think I have a hard time writing. I'm not sure why this is true, but to me it is. I've had a terrible block lately, because I try to think what to write. My Ideas come from somewhere , but thinking certainly is not the source. I find it's best just to flow. The words just stream from the ethos. The only thing I am is the conduit to the reader who can't receive the message. Dragons, natives, Loving Pears, Eye of Lucifer, they're just out there to grab. Like a snowflake on you tongue. Like the scent of honeysuckle. You're not really sure where they came from, and you don't really care. You just enjoy the moment you have them. I think I almost broke my arm today. It hurt like hell, and I certainly didn't enjoy it, but I did enjoy the relief when the pain subsided. Where the hell did that come from? I don't know, but it was good. You know why the pain went away? I quit thinking about it. There it goes again. I start thinking about what to write and I freeze up again. It's no use. I'll come back tomorrow. Alright now I can't get out of thgis box. It's forcing me to write more. It's the Writing.com box. If I stop it will close up around me.I can't breath, I can't breath. Wait a minute, I'm not thinking again. Whew I'm glad that's over with. Hmmm, the block makes me not think. So that means I must be thinking outside the box. So, if I just stay here everything will be alright. Or should I say All Write. Uh oh the box isn't protecting me anymore. I'm thinking inside the box. That'll never work. I'm going to bed. |