Lately, I have been going through my days looking for writing inspiration. But when I look, I don’t find. The desire to write is when I least expect it. When I am tired, angry, at work serving pasta. During these moments, I can’t drop what I’m doing and just…write – but I wish I could. Oftentimes, when I get hyper-emotional, words rush into my brain swirling around, wanting to be written down. Yet, I barricade them from paper. I tie them down. I don’t release them. I try to organize them, I try to make them straight-laced and “right.” I have decided that I don’t like that. My words deserve freedom, restriction-less.

Even now, as I write this, I am struggling. It feels as though I am forcing words on a paper because I have to, not because I want to – and my writing hasn’t ever been like that before…unless it was for an essay due at 11:59PM on Blackboard for class.

This feels dispassionate. It is if I am pulling my teeth. As though I am being tortured to put words down because of a deadline. There is no internal urge.

Surely everyone goes through moments like this – no matter their discipline or practice. And surely this should pass, but for the time being…this is dreadful. I am barring myself from enjoying something that I am very passionate about. It is as though I am in an eternal writer’s block.

There is a plethora of things to write about: music, heartache, anxiety, work, novelties, dogs. The list goes on! But, at least for me, I feel a pressure to write about normal topics, or overused topics, and make them something better.

I am stuck in a standstill. I am trying to continue this article, but I cannot. I feel as though the more I write, the more excruciating it is. Not just for me, but for you – the one that is reading this.