Getting inspiration from a pen and paper is like extracting water from the air. Not impossible, but not easy either.
It’s been weeks. That’s too long for me.
I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to just let my thoughts flow from the hidden spring of my mind, through the stream of my fingertips around the hard plastic of my ballpoint, and unto the white sea of paper slowly being filled with the colorful words of black ink.
No, I was a fool to say that.
What human, upon tasting the sweetness and feeling the rush of inspiration pump into their veins, can fail to remember the awesome beauty of simple words strung together in an attempt to hold a moment for just a little longer? No one can forget the freedom one gets and the power one feels upon indulging in their imagination. Those who claim to have forgotten have never really felt it. How can one forget? To experience it is to want it continuously, to be lost in addiction to it.