I am a writer.
Yet in time of needs, I found words have deserted me completely.
I found myself standing mute.
Where have they gone?
My words, a writer’s best friend?
Instead, I found tears.
Rolling, cascading, streaming.
Mixing with the water from the shower.
I held my breath,
hoping the sobs building inside my chest would just go away.
One can only hold a breath for so long.
And when one escaped, more pushed through.
Until I was a ball of mess,
my face crumpled in my palms.
I found no words.
Author’s note: Is it just me? Is this normal for a writer?
Anyone else experiencing this?