Here I am again, writing. Trying to figure out what’s been occupying my mind for the past month now. I stare at this white blank sheet and ask myself ‘what has been occupying my mind this long?’ then suddenly, I get so confused by seeing a million things spinning like a tornado. The awful scene was usually accompanied with voices of people varying between thick and thin with a variety of emotions.
All of this, and more. It’s all been occupying my mind untranslatable. I still can’t put how and what I feel in words. Though however, thinking about it rings negative words into my ears like apathy, sadness, loneliness, carelessness, and the list goes on forever.
Then comes writers block. We all get that, right? Well here I am, having that for long enough to the point that I forgot how to start writing an introduction to an article. To the point I can’t come up with one of these good articles I used to once write. But here I am again, resisting this block by writing about it. Thinking again, there’s no such writers block. I’m having one but I’m writing about it. Makes sense?
As of this post, I’m not writing for you to read. I’m speaking to you. Mind to mind. And well, because of the distance and all the problems that come with it, you won’t be able to actually read my mind and that’s exactly why this post is here. The words inside my head are being transmitted through my nerves to the tips of my fingers that roughly touch the keyboard so rapidly with absolutely no typos even when I literally stutter, I’d just stop for a split second and go on and start typing again without a single idea of what is it I’m writing about. Just like now.
I know you’re probably reading trying to understand what’s going on or how I feel. But the truth is, I can’t even feel myself. I can’t feel sorry for people’s sadness anymore, and I can’t feel happy for them either. People travel, die, give birth, get married, divorce or whatever, that’s how life is. I can’t keep up with all that, despite the shit those with the ruling stick commit.
I’m at 379 words right now and I still don’t know what this is going to be about. I’m confused. You are confused too. I have this urge to just keep writing on and on forever till I realize what’s been going on around me. In fact, I don’t know what is it that I want anymore. But I’ll keep looking anyway.