It is as though my thoughts are trapped somewhere. They cannot get out. I just want to write. I want the release I get from writing. What has happened? It is quite the dreadful thing for someone like myself. I’m searching my mind and all is hidden from sight. Come out, come out wherever you are.
I’ve never experienced writers block such as this before. It is pretty desperate for me to be writing about writer’s block just for the sake of writing. It isn’t just with my writing. I feel this blockage all around my everyday life as well.
I need a vacation. I need to sit and stare out a window at unfamiliar surroundings. I need to watch the sunset and see the colors reflect on waters my feet have not yet touched. I need to breathe in new air, instead of this same air my lungs are simply tired of. I want to get lost in a swarm of people I have never met. I want to hear the swirling of conversations as I savor a cup of joe and take all the unfamiliar in.
Oh, maybe after the Holidays. For now, though…Calgon, please take me away.
Through the Stillness 
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