Words, they constantly float around in my head. Ideas bubble and pop, nights are passed with scenarios running through my head. When it comes to writing them down, they evaporate. Those scenarios have run off and hidden around the corner. That idea that was bubbling along nicely has now gone off the boil.

The ideas they have left me and all I have is a blank screen.

The blank screen taunts me, leaving me feeling worthless. It just sits there an empty abyss in which I want to bare my soul. It is waiting. I can’t find the words, the feelings, or an emotion of any form, just shame. Should I type my shame?

Is it really shame if I’m willing to share it, or does it just prove that I’m a narcissist? Willing to publically admit my shame, in the hope that others will pay attention to me? Is that what writing is, a direct call of “Look at me?”

“I only write for me,” being nothing more than a claim to try and show how righteous I am. I don’t care for anything, I just need to put words out there. Exorcise the lack of thoughts in my head and not just a cry for attention.

Who knows, and possibly who cares?

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