I have the urge to write but I have nothing to say.

This brain block happens to me often. Perhaps there are too many thoughts. Too much to translate. I could write about the things I love, the things I miss, the things I fear, the things I need or the things I want. I could write about my family, my friends, the people in my imagination, the people walking the streets. I could write about stories, albums, food. I could write yet, nothing translates. Nothing but this jumble of random words thrown together to try and explain how I feel. My heart is in it, my mind is not.

I have the urge to write but I have nothing to say.

Β 

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