The writer’s block is like unpredictable weather, or extreme mood swings. Sometimes the vocabulary and feelings needed filled the system that was me, like a barn full of livestock. When I seek to put my thoughts and feelings into words, those animals begin to mill about, and the system crashes. At times I would stare blankly at the computer’s screen; no words would appear. Writing and then deleting everything – this cycle repeats itself like a broken robot. Sometimes I despise my own words. Everything I write sound stupid. Everything felt like forced labour I didn’t sign up for.
Yet the urge to write exists in me, mixed with a combination of love and hatred. As I wandered fruitlessly through this maze of emotions, I felt my mind losing its way. But being lost doesn’t mean being hopeless. We can always find the way through that benighted darkness. And then the world will be filled once more with brilliant sunlight. Writing is difficult. Yes, it is. But there’s nothing worth getting in this world that you can get easily. The real question here is not “How can I beat writer’s block?” but rather “Will you keep writing despite that stupid block”. Would you wake up everyday, face the blank screen of your computer, feel like you are the most useless person ever existed on Earth, and (probably) end up not being able to produce any words. I said yes.
This commitment to writing stucks within me. Sometimes it seems like school and social life drain me of all my energy, like everything around me will disappear in the blink of an eye. But my voice, my stories, my words are here to stay. These phrases, though meaningless and absurd, are like lovely memories, their names hidden, slipping into my dreams. What I can say is that it was words and writing that reached to the deep recesses of my soul, all the way down to the very core. Like the presence of a sweet lover you never want to disappear, leaving gentle traces in the deepest place of your heart.
Writing isn’t all fun and games, but I have no intention of leaving it. Because writing, though difficult, makes me feel things. The way love used to.