It’s my last semester in college… and then I graduate.
I’m only taking eleven units, so I have a lot of time on my hands. Like a lot. I’ve read seven books since the semester started. We’re only three weeks in. But that feels like seven lifetimes ago.
I’ve realized I have been reading so much, but writing so little. I need to work on my characters.
About five minutes ago I finished the book Fangirl. And now I need to write. I need to write my book and I need to write more and more stories. And I need to write more poetry. My writing has definitely been suffering lately, and I know it’s obvious.
I feel like maybe I’ve lost my passion. I’m completely content with life, there’s no fire burning in my soul, so I have nothing to fuel my words. I’m not in love… or even in like. I’m not depressed. No one is being cruel or insensitive, or at least no more than usual. My heart is beating all on its own. I’m not broken.
But brokenness feeds me. Brokenness gives me somewhere to put the words that spiral inside of me. Brokenness puts the words inside of me in the first place. Seriously, how do I get rid of this writer’s block?
I think I need to find more blogs like mine, but I feel like mine is so scattered sometimes, that there isn’t one like mine. If you know of one, let me know. The blogs I follow, for the most part, I don’t always want to read when they post. Yes, there is a lot of good stuff written, but only two that I look forward to. The others I only read when I’m really bored and have nothing else on my time, and that makes me feel horrible.
I need something to write about. I need something to read, that’s not just another book, even though I already do have another one lined up. Ugh. I feel so stuck