Stuck.

At first, I thought of my last entry as a writers warning as to why you shouldn't jot something down in the heat of an emotion. You need to let an incident sink in and revel about it for awhile before you can actually tell it straight. I reread it and thought… oh fucking god. Did I really write that, thinking that it was only fear holding me and him back? That it has nothing to do with the fact that one: he's an asshole and two: he treats me like shit?

And the answer is yes, I did write it thinking that way. And while I feel mortified and fuckin' foolish, really all that it is is an artifact of my soul. The way that I felt is now tangible. That small piece of me has been spilled out into the universe, and will forever exist in its small moment of being.

At this point now, I would have written something completely different, because the way I feel is completely different. So many stories to be told from only one prompt, and the chapters are written in a feeling.

The ability for life and its scenarios to change so drastically and quickly never ceases to amaze me…………………

And you know what else isn't ceasing to amaze me right now? The fact that when I was driving in my damn car, I was having all of these wonderful sentences write themselves out in my head and I was thinking "Yess! Go home and write it down! Yo' in da ZONE."

And now as I'm actually trying to, my words will not form. Everything that I'm writing and did just write feels so forced its disgusting me. I have a problem with blockage, with flow. My rhythm is off, and I wasn't expecting this because I am feeling something so deeply right now. I have no idea what it is, just an emotion that brings tears to the rim of my eyes but doesn't spill them, and makes the mound of dirty clothing in the corner of my room beautiful. How the fuck do I harness this emotion? I want to make another artifact, damnit.

I guess sometimes I forget that I'm going through this beginning-of-life crisis. But not right now. Right now, it's time for a good song and staring at the candlelight on my wall. I might even shed a few tears. Go ahead, judge me.