I don’t believe in art blocks

Even though, I have never felt so empty of words. Almost like the whole air was dense of stories to tell but I was trapped inside a very cosy glass jar. If life is all about escaping your comfort zone I might need to kick my way out of it. Soon. At least before I go crazy.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I see the best technique would be not to give a shit. I mean after all, what I am always left with at the end is a pen and a piece of paper (or, in my more preferable version, my hands and a keyboard). Though, I don’t think I would ever bother myself with things like genre’s conventions and even if I did, I feel fine with many of them anyway. Where do my glass walls comes from then?

I always loved writing, since I was a kid. It made me feel better, more cool in a way. If you would ask me of my hobby, I would still say it’s writing, mostly. No reason to avoid the destiny, I guess. That would make a pretty decent escape way. Maybe if I stop seeing the glass walls of the jar, they would turn out to be a nonsense just like that. Maybe if I get my hands off the walls and right on the paper, I would stop noticing them anyway? I must be working on my default setting way to hard lately. I guess I’ve missed the moment to get my self together. There is one thing that my writing needs right now and this is a balance.

I guess I will do it as always. With small steps.

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