Does it happen to you? Does an indescribable sorrow fill your soul and make you want to write when you least expect it?
Where you want to find the exact word that explains what you are feeling and put it down on paper. Where you want someone to understand what you are trying you write, find the perfect word and finish your sentence for you. But it just doesn’t happen.
It’s a weird kind of loneliness that few will understand. Where you stand surrounded by your own kind, yet feel like there’s something missing. A longing that’s unfulfilled. Like when you know all your alphabets and words, yet you can’t pen it down. You know you want to write, but you just can’t. You sit there staring at the wall clock or the back of people’s heads. Waiting for that moment when something magical will hit you and all the right words will flow.