Today I sat in a place that normally inspires me to write. Nothing came out. Nothing has come out for quite awhile. 

Finding love—-after you’ve spent the last few years writing about nothing but your hate & resentment—-sort of ignites a spell of writer’s block—-at least in me.

expressing hate is so easy

I could write about love, but I wont. Im selfish with this one. In the past, I spoke conspicuously about love and it betrayed me. In the worst way. I guess that was all for the best though—

since there is no “on to the nEXt one” without the EX—-

Never would be where I am today. In this moment. In Love. With nothing to write about and everything to feel. Someone reading this, may call the words on this screen: something—-when I previously stated I had nothing—- and to that—- My snarky reply is:

Lacking creativity. I NEED Inspiration. UGH.