Tag Archives: freewrite

Writer’s Block

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Her mind is blank, but if these walls could talk for her, only then might you fathom the extent of her suffering. In the dead of night, they watch as she wakes gasping for air as if a cinder block has come crashing down onto her chest. While on solid ground she’s falling, losing her grip by the second, slipping farther while her aching fingertips are desperately trying to hold on.

Wandering aimlessly, she hasn’t a clue what she’s searching for. She’s trapped in a mirror maze of pure nothingness, accompanied only by several of her own helpless reflections staring back at her. She scours every corner, but amidst the flashing lights she’s lost all sense of direction.

The walls of this glass box she’s in cave, and through the thickening air she screams, yet nobody can hear her. All that’s on the tip of her tongue is the saltiness of her tears. She’s tormented by the the deafening silence inside her head.

What a beautiful tragedy it is for a writer’s heart to carve its own wounds. She lies awake on nights like these, tossing and turning, listening for distant murmurs. The closer they get, the clearer they sound and she can begin to slowly stitch her heart back together.

She remains restless until her heart is woven by the strings of all the words she’s for so long been trying to find. The mere presence of a single thought reinvigorates her entire being. At last she can breathe again.

~~~

As this final day of August was nearing, I feared I had nothing to say. I was experiencing the most intensely horrifying feeling any writer could have: writer’s block. I always thought there was no feasible way to put in to words the feeling of not knowing what to write about, as someone it should come so easily to. But, I thought, what if there was? And so, as I lay restless in bed one late night, I typed a list of words to describe all that I was feeling: panic, confusion, frustration, and so on. In doing so, suddenly my mind was filled with constellations of letters forming all the right words to give you this melodramatic tale.

I can’t feel my legs

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‘I can’t feel my legs’: an exclamation often used in pivotal moments of a story to depict intense devastation and anguish for a sudden loss of a sensation. This is typically the point in the story in which the character can’t fathom how to carry on under such horrible circumstances. If such is the case, my story begins at the climax. Except it wasn’t something I had to get used to nor was it something taken from me, it was something I never had to begin with. I can’t feel my legs and I never will. 

I will never feel what it’s like to be in my shoes. I will never feel what lies beneath my feet. From warm and cozy fuzzy socks to the sizzling pavement on a summer’s afternoon, I only have my imagination to draw upon. Still, what I never had is not what I long for. 

I can feel the endorphins rushing through my veins when genuine laughter expels from my lips. I can feel the serotonin easing my mind when I place earbuds into my ears and drown out the world with contagious melodies. I feel familiarity in every surface my fingertips graze. I feel hypnotized by the beauty of all colors and shapes that mingle to create art.

With every inhale of fresh air, as I take in the glorious scents of the natural world, I feel serenity wash over my body. With every taste sweet or bitter, I feel my tastebuds dance. With every word my pen translates for my intricate mind, I feel passion grow within my soul like blossoming flowers in the springtime.  

I invite constellations of goosebumps to invade my skin. I crave the feeling of sunshine enveloping me in comforting warmth. I am exhilarated by the piercing pain in my heart left by the power of storytelling when fictional love falls apart. Through hills of joy and creative bliss as well as spirals of pain, anger, and sadness, I’m on a rollercoaster of emotions and I never want to get off. 

I was never stripped of any sensation. I am not incomplete nor is my story one of heroic overcoming. So if by the title you thought this was supposed to be a tragic anecdote, you’ve got it all wrong. I do not wish to change what cannot be changed. I only wish to fulfill my heart until it’s experienced every possible feeling it’s ever desired. I long to feel the fluttering of butterflies that awaken with love and the ache of heartbreak. I strive for the feeling of success and brace myself for failure.

I can’t feel my legs, but I am not numb. So no, I can’t run, jump, skip, or twirl, but I am feeling everything and living all at once and in that I am truly content.