But that's not really it. I can write fine, I can tell you all about how I can't write about anything other than not being able to write.
See my problem?
Every time I sit down to relate the latest wacky thought crossing my mind? It dribbles away to nothing before I can start typing. Vanishes like the last wispy veil of the dream you had last night that you just can't remember anymore but it's all on the tip of your brain waiting for you to fall asleep again...because as soon as I get up and walk away from keyboards, pens, pencils, scraps of paper? Like maybe in the shower or while cubing up chicken breasts or running around delivering my inter-office love notes? Yep, the words and stories and pictures keep flowing.
If I try to write it down? All I can think about is how hard it is to remember my great idea. And I can tell you all about that.
My brain is stuck, blocked, broken. Or maybe just too jam packed (jammed pack?) with all the weights and worries of the world that I, me, my vioce, we're all trapped beneath it and can't seem to break free right now.
Which is trippy cuz how did I get my previous post out so easily?