An Involuntary Hiatus

Something is very wrong.

My brain, once alight with metaphors and imagery, has sunken into a pit that it cannot escape from. 

I am not going through any major emotional turmoil right now, nor have I been for the past few months. And yet when I put pen to paper, I am stuck.

Where my pen once swirled with the sensations of each of the senses, there is now a blank page. Where my mind raced with ideas for stories and poems, it has remained stagnant.

I am a singer, a painter, a calligraphy artist, a friend, a daughter, a sister, and a (future) godmother. But above all else, I am a writer. I am a storyteller. My words are my watercolors as I paint them across pages and send them into the world. 

But right now there is paint thinner where everything used to shine. 

I hope this explains my prolonged absence from zarbmusing, but I also hope this little post is enough for me to find my vibrant colors again.

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