01:14

Once again, instead of sleeping, I find myself wide awake; stuck in front of a blank page that is begging me to fill it with words, to paint a picture of the mess within. The voices, the screams – they all need to be heard, need to be written down, and yet I’m hesitating, still. Writing used to be what allowed me to go on, however as of late, words have been slipping through my mind like sand through fingers. The connection I’ve used to adore and fight for has left my heart and soul. Each word feels misplaced, wrong. I wish I could find an excuse, someone or something to accuse, but all there is left is my own reflection in the mirror.

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About thetasteofwrittenwords

Ema. Twenty-something. Panromantic asexual. University student, artist and writer. Proud feminist. View all posts by thetasteofwrittenwords

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