Writer's Block

The last few weeks I have been trying to find something to inspire me to write.  I think, more than being uninspired, I have been fighting a war between my head and my heart.  I can’t decide if we spend most of life trying to let our head catch up with our heart, or the other way around.  I think it depends on the circumstance.  My constant battle is that my head and heart are never on the same page.  It makes it very hard to find happiness when you over think everything new, and your heart won’t let go of the ghosts of loves past.  I let my lost loves and tragic mistakes haunt me.  I am so terrified of making the same mistakes over again that I twist myself into something unrecognizable, a lackluster version of myself at times.   

Some days, I wake up, and I know exactly who I am, while on others, I still feel like a lost girl chasing fairy tales.  I find solace in putting together a stylish outfit, having a glass of wine, or watching a terrible, soapy television show.  More than anything, I find my true peace writing this blog.  There is something about baring one’s soul to a group of friends and a bunch of complete strangers.  Nothing makes me feel more empowered than putting my digits to keys and ending up with something that I am proud to share.  It took me a very long time before I showed my writing to anyone.  I was petrified of being told I was wasting my time, that what I write is not worth the space it occupies.  That is not one of my worries anymore.  I believe in my writing, even if it is only being read by my best friends.  We should share the things that make us happy.  This is what makes writer’s block such a plague.  

Even though I tend to write about matters of the heart, I don’t know how to write about my struggle now.  Everyday I go back and forth between being smitten and indifference.  My heart wants to open itself up to Stefan but my head stops me.  I don’t know if I can handle another heartbreak.  Besides, I don’t really know if we are on that track.  That may be my fault.  I don’t want to ruin whatever we are, so I don’t ask, “What we are doing?”  I don’t text him, even when I really want to; I don’t want to appear clingy.  I just enjoy the time we do spend together.  When he is here, when he kisses me hello, it is like all my worries fall away.  

I don’t know what to feel because I don’t want to have unrealistic expectations.  I don’t know what to write, because I don’t want to put on paper my foolish dreams of potential happiness.  The plans I wish I had the courage to make with Stefan just make me that silly girl again.  Is it better to be sensible or should we believe in fairy tales?