i’ve been holding myself back from writing this post. telling myself that perhaps the signs and flags have all been translated wrong. but in the grand scheme of things i know this is hopeful thinking only: my words aren’t coming very much anymore. it has been three weeks in counting since a poetic thought has crossed my mind. blue eyes don’t spark up the beginnings of 4 am love poems and i don’t find myself being bombarded by snippets of inspiration at ungodly hours. its a curse. i’ve heard before that madness comes from voices inside of your head….but my madness comes when there is none. i find my grade wilting in english class because the poetry unit is battering away at me. i’m told to write a poem in a week and i would typically let an inner voice scoff. not this time. this time i find myself panicking and using websites for rhyme and scouring my mind for inspiration. it’s not coming. there has been a shifting in the plates of my world, a tidal wave of change that has hit me at my weakest. i can’t look one of the girls i called my best friend in the face……..but then again, she hasn’t been meeting my eyes for a while now. bath bombs fizz into colored water as my thoughts fall like stones into nothingness. music makes a smile wobbly on my face precariously. the truth is: my poetry is coming. i’ve tried to force it out and will keep trying for tonight. perhaps a bad poem will slip out and i will celebrate. but perhaps nothing will happen at all. writer’s block affects everyone differently. but for me, it feels like an ocean i once complained of turned into a desert. all i know is that i can’t make myself face a pair of certain hazel eyes, numbers are cluttering my frontal lobe and i find myself falling for a boy with makes me want to start dreaming again.
Perfectly Imperfect Me 