The words won’t come. I try. I put my fingers to the keyboard and press down, but they just won’t come.
The words that used to flow so easily for me are…gone.
Anything that does make it onto the screen is incoherent. The sentence structure, the grammar, the words themselves: nonsensical. This is the most concise description I can muster at the moment.
I have things floating around in my head. Scratch that. They are swirling around in my head. They are bits and pieces of what could be brilliance on a virtual page, but I cannot seem to flesh them out. I try, I do, but the words just won’t coalesce in a way that will make any of you believe I’m sane enough to not be in a rubber room drooling in the corner.
I have a lot of things I want to write about. In my head, they sound like they could be the next viral post that gets lil’ ol’ me a book deal. However, once I begin typing, it becomes clear that I am full of shit and crazy as a damn loon. Though, because I recognize the craziness, it means that I’m not actually nuts.
Or so I keep telling myself.
The fact that I have 382 unfinished posts in draft tells a completely different story. Clearly, this is more than your run-of-the-mill writer’s block.
For now, this will have to suffice as proof that I haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth or abandoned my writing. Hopefully something will click soon and the nonsensical will morph into semi-coherent, but I’m not holding my breath. Maybe I’ll just redesign The Asylum and see if that helps the vast, dark twisted place that is my brain make sense out of nonsense and words will emanate from me again.