I can't write

It has been such a long time since I sat down to write something. There have been many stories floating in my head, many emotions playing tempestuous notes with the chords of my heart, many incidents waiting to be told but words have evaded me, thoughts have darted through my mind over and over again like a restless child who longs for his mother but wouldn't allow her to hug him.

Everytime I try to get a grip on these feelings and pen them down, they betray me. Words that once were the essence of my existence fail me; my own emotions scoff at my inability to put them down on paper.

Every night when the tired limbs unfold and the mind drowns itself in planning for the next day, the heart begins to ache too. And words that haunted me all day, desperately waiting to be strung together in a story, start their last journey from my eyes to the pillow.

I do not know why it has become so increasingly hard for me to write anything. It is as if my emotions have become so vagabond, so fluid that they no longer remember they have a home to go back to. But my heart that has always longed for an anchor and the mind that has always spun around in infinite circles; they both wait impatiently for the voice that words used to give them. They know that place of peace, that feeling of being home, being friends with myself - that place lies somewhere in the pages of the book that I have dreamt of writing one day.

I know that until I lift the pen and start writing, I will never get there. Yet, commitments keep me from stepping into my inner world, responsibilities clutch my thoughts and chores leave me exhausted. And I lose myself in this crazy business of living.

Ironically, this dreadful thing called life keeps me from living.