I like to write, but… sometimes the words just won’t come.
Sometimes I sit up late, because supposedly you wake up after everyone else has gone to bed. Still they won’t come. I get frustrated, angry, disappointed.
I write OK when I’m inspired; when I feel like I have something to give the world using my words.
But what about when I’m not? What about my words giving back something to me? Isn’t writing supposed to help me get through life when life knocks me down?
Where did my words go?