I feel like I've been on this case way too long, and bemoaned way too many times. After a great run at TSL, I feel like an exhausted runner at a marathon with fuel all burned at the big race. And even perhaps, a little too much.
It's funny because all I ever wanted to do was to write, and a big part of me still do. But I just somehow manage to run out of words to say - even when plenty of thoughts run through my brain. I told myself a quick breather and taking a back seat for a while will alleviate all that creative block and anxiety. But it seems like I'm still in that square called one.
At work, I interact daily with writers more than I do with writing, I read more words than I do actually writing them. Recognising I've so much to grow is outstanding, but parallel to that train of thought is the inability to do so.
When I write, I try to mimic those storytellers who can seamlessly put sentences together like a hot hit pop song that work. But I somehow fall short and get stuck between mediocrity and a few vocabularies that are just synonyms of, on google.
I sometimes wonder, more often nowadays if the path I set myself to commit is just not right in the first place?