Burned out

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So there’s this awful thing called writers block that has been preventing me from really reading or writing most of the year. It’s horrible. I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself… I feel incomplete without creating, without consuming literature. It feels wrong. Still, I’ve had so much trouble coming up with ideas and even focusing on a book. I began to wonder if I was even meant to write… If I should try harder with my art, study that instead. Maybe then I could create beautiful things.
I know that I am a writer because deep inside of me there is that voice- if you know what I’m talking about, good for you. It is miraculous thing to write, to take on this new persona and breathe in their realm. It is something I used to live for, but now…
I have trouble staying awake on my own world. How am I going to create a whole new one? How am I supposed to solve the problems of a fictional being when I can’t even tackle my own? Does this make me weak?
I realize that I’m going through an intense period of my life, I shouldn’t expect to be able to produce quality writing all the time. I just never expected to become so incapable. At least now I’m writing this post. That is something, isn’t is?
I’m praying for inspiration, for passion, for an artistic awakening.
For the time being, I am just burned out.

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