When it comes to writing things on a whim, I’m the MVP.

Revising and editing? It’d be my pleasure. Last minute assignment completion? Got you. Impromptu writing sprints derived from a random burst of energy? Without question.

And yet, lately, I feel like I’ve been boxed in. Everything feels so out of place, both in life and in my head, so my words don’t flow the same way that they usually do. 

My inspiration is dwindling and whatever flame I’ve been running off of is temporarily out of commission, leaving me out here in the cold to figure out how to work through my emotions without pen and paper (or keyboard and screen).

Believe me when I say that I can’t stand writer’s block.

It’s a perilous process, and probably the most annoying thing I deal with regularly. It’s less of a solid problem to me, it almost feels like an emotion.

I open my laptop to write. I reread what I last wrote. I sit and stare at the document for a while. I attempt to write something worth a thousand words or so, hate it, and leave less than a quarter of what I produced, because everything else was unusable. 

And by nature I’m a writer, which means I feel both unproductive and unfulfilled by not writing, meanwhile I can’t write because of how uncomfortable I feel. It’s an endless cycle that’s spun out of control into this depressing whirlwind. 

Though I can’t lie, writing this helped a bit. It doesn’t feel quite like writing a personal piece, but at least it’s something, and until I get myself sorted out, that’s enough.