Goodnight was never a big thing to her. She didn’t even say it before they went to bed anymore. It was probably because she had reached that point where saying goodnight was more of a formality to them. Furthermore, why would she say goodnight to someone who was with her in her dreams? She adapted to just feeling the presence of their connection between the sheets until she fell asleep and it went away. This was probably the main reason why she woke up confused when she found herself in bed alone.
The sheets were crisp and dry but as she rolled over to say good morning an uncomfortable chill met her skin giving her a slight shudder.Naturally, she wanted to scream in a panic but logic got the better of her and drove her to think through the situation a minute longer. He was probably in the shower, or downstairs or he had taken a jog. He would be back in a short while and the normalcy of her life would be restored.She waited a while and after about three hours it hit her he was gone. She suddenly noticed how in such a short time evidence of his existence had vanished. He had left and with him, he had taken everything.
Loneliness is one of the worst companions one can have in this life and she had that. She was alone in every way possible that her reflection in the mirror seemed to fade. The worst part was the fact that her memories of him were also being replaced by darkness and emptiness as time passed by. She had found herself in him and now that he was gone she had no idea who she was. Everything from her voice to her personality dissolved into nothingness.Her soul numbed out, the glow in her eyes dimmed and the life in her words was replaced by fear: she was lost.
Desperation came in and she tried to get him back. She did it all form going to all place they had been together to the ones he never shared with her. She got to the point of taking a ludicrous action and screaming to foreign gods for help.On one of such occasion, she lit candles on the floor of her balcony she was going to sit inside that circle of energy and will him back into her life.She wore a white dress, a blogger on interest said it would help, it was light and in the evening wind hugged curves. As she walked into her energy circle she convinced herself that she could feel the energy shift. In her life, she had never once been anything close to spiritual yet in that moment her skepticism was replaced by a storm of faith. Her legs were crossed and her hands calmy rested on her knees in the ‘purity circle’ she called out to him “Come back to me” and sat there listening to the darkness not speak. The silence was broken by a soft moan which harmonized itself into evident cries of anguish. She had finally cracked down and her pain, fear, and frustrations exploded from all sides. All this energy seemed to ricochet around that little circle she had made to protect negativity from her.She picked up a small rock and wrote down an inscription that was the last content of her soul
I feel that this time you are gone for good and I cant live without you…I’m sorry if I did anything to push you away. tell me what would make you come back and I’ll do it…lines are blurred now I’ll cross them all for you.
The concept of Writer’s block is usually something quite foreign to so many people including writers themselves. It is an experience that is so intimately personal that most people never know how to explain how exactly they are feeling.This could be a reason why it is easy for people to misjudge the effect that writer’s block can do to someone. The truth is that writer’s block is real over the years the concept has been of interest to professionals in the field of psychologist stating with Edmund Bergler, a psychoanalyst in 1947 who first put it down on paper. More works were done in the 80’s and at this point writer’s block should definitely be something to think about deeper.
Unlike some popular belief, Writer’s block doesn’t just happen to amateur or young writers. Legends such as F. Scott Fitzgerald have struggled with the condition too. It took me a while to get to this point when I got my worst period of writer’s block. It is some form of loss that I don’t think I can ever fully describe with words. I felt lost in my own world.Imagine walking into your house which you have lived in all your life and not recognizing anything.That is how I felt, I would want to write and suddenly the letters on my keyboard looked like hieroglyphics (I cant read ancient Egyptian texts), at that point I would blame modern technology and decide to go back to the pen and paper only for words not to form. Instinctively I assumed I was tired and I would either sleep it off or coffee it out but still the few times I could write I couldn’t find myself. I will admit that this hasn’t been my first rodeo but when I passed the three-week mark I panicked and wondered if maybe I would never write again.The worst part was how much I feared that I would disappoint my purpose in this world and be abandoning my readers.I felt the loss of losing a soul mate without any prior warning and I could tell that I was losing myself too. It
Is there one direct route to solve writer’s block? I wish there was but so far nothing has been found. People just have to wing it trying out different things from changing genres to going for therapy. This experience made me curious. Could it be possible that writer’s block is part of a manifestation of transition in a writer? Also to other artists and people in different fields of life experience their equivalent of writer’s block? I don’t have the answers but I hope to find them. In the meantime, I will wear my face with pride, explore my world with the humility of a child and of course I will smile (It makes me feel better and looks good on my face). I shall keep trying and savor this experience with all its highs and lows because that is what passion is to me.