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I miss writing. I miss sitting in front of an empty white page and watching the cursor blink rhythmically for only a few moments before the thoughts in my head threaded together into words and sentences that poured themselves out of my fingers and into the world. When I flip through old journals and scan over old blog posts, reading the things I used to write, I don't recognize that girl anymore. I wish I could say that she was trapped somewhere deep inside of my mind, slowly making her way through the heavy piles of experiences that have transpired since the days my hands wrote so freely... but for some reason, I can't. She feels lost to me. I've dug deep within myself, checking every last hidden corner for traces of her, but I cannot seem to find her.

She was fearlessly outspoken and I am not. Somehow, between then and now, that piece of my soul slipped into a quiet oblivion. I shut my eyes tight, seeking out the right words to say in order to express myself, but they are no longer there. They disappeared with her. The words are gone and she is too. 

"Why don't you ever write anymore?" I feel my eyes drop to the ground and my cheeks burn red, I scrunch up my toes and bite my lip, unsure how to respond. A simple shrug of the shoulders will have to do. The words are gone and she is too. I've rummaged through all that's left inside my skull, but I can't find the words. They're gone. And she is too.

Now I sit staring at the empty white pages that never get filled. I stare at blinking cursors that never move. I don't write because I've forgotten how-- but I want to remember.


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