Confused

Sometimes, I can’t even understand myself. I thought I’ll write twice a week, yet my muse seems to have disappeared again. A post I wanted to put to words have remaind in my suffocated mind for a few days now, and I’m not even satisfied the way I am penning them down. I’ve considered and considered what to do to get my muse to show some mercy on me. Yet it doesn’t seem to be happening. Some of you might ask what’s the difference between me and my muse. It is I who writes the poems after all. No not really. Without my inspiration, I can’t write at all. And without writing, I’m more deader than a doorknob. Perhaps a rant was in order, for I’m absolutely confused again and these doubts are all stinging my head. I’m wondering why I’m so lost. 42 posts in 2 months doesn’t seem like me. Hell, I’ve written more than that in a single month, and been happy with what I wrote. Was the change to my own name from my long cherished pen name the root of all problems? Was that a mistake? Some of my friends asked me what’s the difference in a name? Leo was mask on Vinay, but I don’t know if he was. Leo was who made me, who set me apart from Vinay, and with both joining together, am I overwhelmed and being sucked into a blackhole where I can’t escape? Where I cannot breathe? I’ve no flair for the dramatic, yet an affinity for the confusions I think. I’m scared that this block I find myself in, a rut that I can’t seem to get off, might just kill me off. I feel like getting back to Leo, maybe that might help. It has before too. I hope I can figure out a solution before I throw in the towel and say “adieu” to this space. Without this space, I think I might just throw in the towel everywhere! You are my friends, and so I once again pen here for help. I’ll try alongside to get my thoughts together as well.


PS: A long break won’t be a solution. I’ve contemplated it, and I’ve killed that off.

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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