So I am having the most interesting of writers blocks
lately.
It is one that is not so much a box, more so a web.
I am able to write and outline my stories.
I am able to be around others to workshop my stories.
I have time to write, outline, workshop these stories in a
comfortable environment.
What I am unable to do is to find a fragment of my past.
Prose from the past is impeding my future.
I cannot find it in my web of computers.
I cannot find it on the internet.
I cannot find it in email.
Somehow I cannot continue to write unless I review the past.
But I am writing, yet my heart yearns to read it again.
I have found other writings, but this one was from a younger
woman.
Someone who like now had ample time to write and attain
critique.
Do I want to be her again or do I want to just do a quick
review of the past?
I do not miss the past for it is only odd that I crave it
now.
When the pen cannot go across paper fast enough.
