My lips are like a cage for my thoughts. I have a helmet on my head and the ideas cannot permeate its hard and cold outer shell. My hand is cramped from writing yet there are no words on the page and all I have is a smear from my pencil and a few eraser marks. The rest is blank.
I try to keep a notebook of ideas. Ideas for stories I want to tell. Ideas for videos I want to make. Photos to take. Plans to carry out. Even with these ideas, the notebook remains blank, unopened. I go to the bookstore and I look in the aisles of these blank books, and I want them to inspire my creativity, but I never buy more. The pages are crisp and clean and ready to hold a world inside of them, yet it is a world that which I am incapable of creating. I fear that my best ideas have passed and that my new ones are stale. They have over-ripened, too late to pick.
Others seem to have it easier, or so I think. Or maybe they have the same struggle and their “uncreative” ideas are more unique than my creative ones. Either way I sometimes feel that I have passed my mark. Burned out on talent? That maybe my best days have past.
I know this is not true, fortunately, but right now it is hard to think past my utter lack of inspiration. I’m told my ideas are good, but are my friends faking for show to make me feel better? I know I am fine. I know I am fine but there is knowing and then there is believing.
You are creative.
I tell myself this everyday. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it does not. From this point forward I resolve to cling to every thought and word and just write it down. To carry a notebook of random ideas and thoughts and maybe, just maybe, it will help.
Writer’s block. Creator’s block. What a funny, yet fitting, name. It feels as if their is a paperweight holding down that list of things to and say and I am somehow not strong enough to lift it right now. But then I lift some weights, and build up my strength, and soon it is not so heavy anymore.