Sometimes I feel like I am floating outside of everything. I could have used a better word there, a more poetic one, but I like the practicality and all-encompassing-ness of 'everything.' I feel simultaneously cloistered and adrift. Anchored, but not anchored to anything.
And yes, I recognized that this is only my fault. I make the decision, have made the decisions, that lead me from Point A to Point B. I am far too willful for it to not be my fault.
But anyway, here's where I am today: stuck inside of my head, outside of everything else; disappointed, fretted, and ever-mindful of the future and my place it. I am acutely aware that my writing has been sub-par. I suspect it is because of the mountain of chemistry and geology that I've climbing over the past six months, but some things are cyclical and sometimes I lose it, them. Sometimes I lose my beloved words and have to wait it out.
For me, forcing language is like arguing with a zealot. It just doesn't turn out well for anyone.
So I am going to stop for a little while. Until it comes back, I am going on hiatus. From this blog; from the empty, accusatory journals; from the pen and the (s)word. I won't write until I'm ready to and I won't allow myself to feel bad for not writing. I won't weep over words that I am losing because tears won't accomplish anything.
And until next time.