You're Supposed To Write This

I don’t’ know what to do with myself when I am stressed, idle and unable to put into words how I feel. This article I read on ThoughtCatalog (I’ll dive into that a little later) said you have to get out all the bad stuff so you can get to the good. So… this is my rambling, cliché, melodramatic poem: I’ve never felt so stuck as a writer Nothing to say really Forcing a concept until I see it more clearly Drawing a blank more often than not Glimpses of ideas one moment. The next… damn. I forgot. And what is this ‘writer’ title anyway This name we so swiftly dub ourselves Without the corresponding resume Forcing it Not saying sh*t Even now as I clutch the pen It’s apparent that I’m struggling My prose flows differently than my thoughts go That’s a problem How am I both the blogger dying for their first print And the editor sent to stop them? My creativity’s getting choreographed I can much less even describe a laugh That joy I had when the sun tea...