This happens all the time.
When there are too many words to say and too many ways to say them, nothing comes out.
The process of write-and-erase, type-and-delete becomes mindless patterns my fingers follow until I give up completely and save a draft.
Most of these drafts are never revisited. Just left to wait in a queue of unfinished thoughts, uncertain if they will ever be completed.
It’s like when you have a conversation with a stranger. A common topic bonds you to each other until your coffee is ready or your bus arrives.
These chance encounters are the unfinished drafts of life. Sometimes, you are given the chance to continue writing. Sometimes you forget it ever happened.
Sometimes you revisit the piece and realize that there is a story to be told. You work out a rough draft and tell everyone about it. Your friends and family are introduced to the story and it becomes beautifully complex.
Sometimes, the story becomes distorted. The words begin to trail away from the initial storyline and you lose control of where it’s headed. The people around you cannot understand it anymore so they stop reading. It becomes an endless ramble of heated words and there is no more room to write on the page.
Just rip it up. Delete it.
You can always start another draft.