As I stare at the screen, searching for the right words to say, I find my mind has gone blank. It has emptied itself of all emotion, as though it has lost all inspiration. It is as if the words have poured out over the course of our existences and there is nothing left to be said. But with this writer’s block, I find myself feeling something that I have never really felt before. I find myself a shell of the person that I was when I was with you. I find myself uninspired to write because I find myself emptied of everything you.
It is an odd feeling that I find taking over my body. There is this emptiness to having no feelings at all. It is like a rude awakening into what a heart can truly feel without you in it. As if you have been sucking the life out of me all this time, leaving me no room to feel anything but sorry. As if I have just been full of emotional damage, leaving no space for any other feelings. As if this cloud has been hanging over and my writing was my sun. But with that sorrow the darkness had brought, it had given me something to say.
The constant reminder of you is no longer there. The waiting for a phone call, the hoping you will pop up on social media, the idea that I could run into you at the grocery store is no longer something that is possible. It was something that lingered in my mind more than I was aware of until the thought was gone. It was like a deep pain with a slow ache, not realizing it was even there until I slowed down enough to see it was even hurting. But with that pain, my writing had provided me a welcome relief.
The mixed emotions of what I should be feeling compared to what I am feeling causes this unnecessary need to piece over the past again. To see if I am making the right decision, leaving my muse behind the way that I am. The feeling as though I will find no one to inspire me the way that you did, even if it meant being stuck in the same place. It sounds damaging and unrealistic to want to stay in the darkness, but sometimes that is where I would find the blinding light. Where in the confusion I could see the error in his and my ways and be inspired to write all the feelings that were real. Because with that confusion, I found my words were my way to find clarity. As a result, I was able to give myself my own piece of mind.
And now I have nothing. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more confusion. I just am left with this emptiness; A shell of what I used to feel. I should feel relieved in a sense, that I no longer have this grim shadow following me as I try to move on. I should feel overjoyed that I should be able to feel happiness again. I should be looking for something else to write about, something else to spark my interest, something else to become my muse. And yet, all I do is sit back and stare at this blank page. Waiting. Waiting for more inspiration from you. The man I once knew.