I just want to say a quick fuck you to writers block.
I have streams of countless and endless thoughts running through my head ALL DAY LONG but crickets start mocking me as soon as I lay my hands on my keyboard.
It is an entirely, mind crippling frustration to be so enticed by words, and not know how to piece them together to capture the picture of the puzzle your mind is wrapped up in.
To let something you love, become something bothersome.
Something you have complete control over, control you. Cripple you.
It’s easier to stay silent than to say words that don’t fit, to avoid telling the right story with all of the wrong words.
With a puzzle, every intricate shape either seamlessly fits together or doesn’t, black and white. With words, with a story, you have complete control over the narrative, there is no concrete answer.
There is no black and white, but in the grey area one could easily get lost, vision becoming foggy and swayed by the grey, stormy, clouds wavering through.
Sometimes without guidance, it’s difficult to find your grounding to settle on.
I read a quote once by a French novelist that said “Happiness writes in white ink on a white page.”
It’s been stuck in my head ever since.
It is near impossible to fully grasp the concept of happiness on paper. You can’t feel it as intrusively using only words, like you can with sadness.
When you read of pain, you will feel that pain, think about that pain. When you read of happiness, you will smile, say “oh that’s cute” and move on with your life.
Humans seem to be wired these days to indulge in contents that include suffering, even if subconsciously. Maybe the world, was just written in black ink.
The problem is I seem to be writing in grey ink. I cannot write in white, and I don’t only want to write in black, spreading that darkness.
The grey ink sometimes gets hard to see, it’s not as opaque, but I’m slowly finding my way through those grey, stormy, clouds. Experiencing and feeling a variety of emotions, some white, some black. But mostly grey.
I’m finding it’s human to be grey.
To not have answers.
To not find all of the right words.
To not fit into every puzzle piece.
It’s human to not know what you’re doing, where you’re going, what you’re saying.
It’s okay to be lost, and to let yourself fly through those grey clouds every once in a while, instead of being frustrated by the indecision on what island to land on. On what story to tell, and what ink to use.
Basically what I’m saying is writer’s block is a bitch.
I am trying to make sure I show up, but I sometimes am indecisive on what island to land on, what story to tell, and what color ink to use.
But allow me to try to write in white for one second to say a genuine thank you to everyone who is reading, and for watching me try to find my way within all of my (grey) stories.
I find grey to be versatile, honest, fair and human. I hope you find my stories to be the same.
It’s hard finding all of the perfect words.
But I love you.