"What happened here..."
(No, it's not a question, so I won't punctuate it as such.)
Generally, when I write, I'll set the mood with some music, a thought or an idea. Lately, for some reason or other, nothing has been speaking to me.
My heart is literally breaking with the burden of all these words my mind refuses to release. It's like someone ripped my live, beating heart out of my chest, placed it in my throat and filled my cardiac void with... lead or something. (I'm at a point where I can't even construct an extended metaphor.)
See, how it would work in the past is that I would just be going about my life, doing things. Nothing special. Every now and then, this voice would speak to me. (I'm not crazy, I promise.) It would tell me things, I mull them over, and ta-da! We'd have writing. We'd have humor, wit, sarcasm, thoughtful arguments and the occasional myopic misunderstanding. We'd have a birth of creativity. Together, we would create such fun little packages of words. (What the hell? I don't even know what I just said.)
Not anymore, though. I can't even come up with any decent bullshit.
That got me thinking... What gives? Why now, when I'm finally an adult, financially independent, physically okay and emotionally stable would this choose to happen? I don't know.
Fuck this shit.
I'm over this. Actually, I've been over this for a good month now. Nothing is changing and this situation won't fix itself. I need a (new) muse... Maybe. I don't even know.
Blah, blah, blah.
PS - How have you been?