A note to myself.
Write.
Just write.
How hard is it to do that? You've written more or less consistently for almost seven years.
You wrote through your depression.
You wrote through your anxiety.
You wrote when you were alone.
You wrote when you were happy and sad and inspired and bored.
Yet you cannot seem to be able to pick up the computer, and type your thoughts.
Now your life has taken this most unexpected turn at this most unexpected time and you're unable to put the proverbial pen to paper.
You can't even fall back onto your "faillsafe" - your recipes or your fiction.
Because you can't think. You cannot seem to be able to wake up in the morning and keep the day straight.
And every night before bed, you think - oh crap - I haven't gotten any of what I meant to get done completed.
And then I can't sleep. Not because my mind is full. Not because my body is not tired.
I just can't sleep.
Yet I can't write.
Officially blocked.
(Will be back soon lovelies - I promise).
