Mental Block

One thing after another. That has been 2016 for me. I have never wanted a year to end this badly as I have this one. It seems like the number "16" is not a good one for me. Some backstory: When I was 16 years old, I fell in love. Then that love broke my heart and that was the first time I felt true heartache. Losing love. In the year 2016, after four years of regaining that love, I lost it again- or rather I fell out of love, thus it wasn't really losing love. However, that realization was as painful as losing love. But this is not the only issues I've had with the "16's". When I was 16 I realized that I was a depressive, despite my optimistic functioning. In 2016, the depressive nature became full blown anxiety and death became more appealing that it did 6 years ago.          ~ end of backstory. Now that you have an idea of the "16's", I shall move forward in telling this story. I will start from where I am now. To those around me...

I used to think that I could write. I identified myself as a "writer". I took pride in this idea of myself. It gave me passion, it kept me hopefully. It made me hope and believe in myself more than anything. Then I stopped writing. Somewhere along the line I became lazy - I identified as lazy. I went from writing and starting short stories, to writing poems. Poems that I don't even publish. Words I keep to myself and hide from the world. I kept going with the poetry and later on I started blogging. I was an avid blogger. I had so many ideas. So many thoughts and passions I wanted to share with the world. With you. Even there, I was not steadfast enough. Writing died; but from there, research birthed. Reading and finding new things to observe, vex about, and read! This opened up a new world of words for me. I was no longer just a writer. I wasn't a writer at all. I was just a girl who spent far too much time in front of a screen looking things up... and an aspirin...