Writing

I am at a loss. There is so much that I want to say, so much that I want to just put out on paper so that I can reread it and realize what my thoughts are, that it feels almost as if my head will explode. And yet, here I sit, not being able to think of anything in particular to write about. I cannot help but wonder why. Why can I not think of my own thoughts? Is it from years of hating and dodging writing assignments in school because I never was allowed to write about what interested me? What is it that made me dislike the writing assignments so much? I find myself looking at other people and wishing that I had their writing ability, their way with words.

Cheyenne--unintelligible speaker. That's what I feel about myself so often. It seems that on a daily basis I, at least once, come to a loss for words or stumble over words, mixing up a couple or just forgetting what the word is altogether. I often leave conversations hoping that I got my point across, that the other person understood me. And even if they did understand me, did they realize how strongly I feel about it? Or did my tripups cover my passion in dust? Maybe in doing this blog, in making myself write about things, even things as petty and unimportant as where I stand concerning Valentine's Day, I'll be able to build my imagination, to get my thoughts back on track and allow things to flow again.

Maybe, just maybe...