I go through these spells where I forget how to live. Everything that makes me, well me, seems foreign and impossible. “What color is my toothbrush? Where do I put my shoes? Where are my keys? WHAT ARE WORRRRRRRRRRDSSSSSSSS?!” (You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my fist angrily at the universe.)
Writer’s block I can handle. Idea block? Not so much. I don’t want to rehash the same words and thoughts that I’ve spilled in my SEVEN YEARS (almost) of blogging. I don’t want to recycle other people’s ideas. I just want to write awesome things…and buy shoes…and talk to cute boys on the phone. I’m getting off track. But that’s the whole point. When I think about the person I was one year ago today, I don’t think I do any of the things now that I was doing then. Granted, some things need to change, but I feel that there are parts of me that I need to recapture and incorporate into life as I now know it.
What does that have to do with anything? I wrote more. And I did it for me, in hopes that someone could get something out of it. Lately, I find myself questioning my voice, which is something I’ve never done. If I knew why I felt this way, I’d change it immediately, but I’m doing my damnedest to expel and bind my doubting spirit. Words have always been an important part of my life. Yet, when I’m at a crossroads, words are the first to go.
What I enjoy most when I forget how to do things, is the moment I remember…again. And I does this. Right now, I’m still trying to learn life over, but I’m getting there. To be honest, I’ve even been struggling with brainstorming. In all of the great things that have taken place this year, I did not expect to struggle with my gift, right when I need it the most.
If I haven’t said it lately, I’m always appreciative that you are with me through all of this. Some of you have been reading my work for a long time, and it’s really humbling. I don’t know what I say or do to keep yall coming back, but I’m glad you enjoy it. I can’t sing or dance or do any of the fly things that so many of my fellow bloggers can do. Strip me down, and I got “nothing but my balls and my word” (word to Young Bleed). And really, word by word, that’s where it all starts with me.